You Do Good, You Find Good
by The BatThing
Summary: New Chapter: A kitten, bad grades, office troubles, GameBoys ... yeah, and more. Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

"Bine faci, bine gasesti."

**Romanian Proverb**

_**You Do Good, You Find Good**_

**By: The BatThing**

Gotham City was cold, the chilling weather had settled in a few weeks ago, a bit early, but it didn't seem to mind. It proved to dampen moods, create a colorful array of muttering and complaints about things totally unrelated. It was strange what a little bad weather could do to a person, but it happened. All it took was a glance outside to see what waited and a frown was fast to arrive – after all, it was just cold and grey. No snow, no sun, just a large empty sky, and a few naked trees.

At Gotham Heights the common conversation concerning the weather was the matter of snow. What had the reports said on the matter? This Thursday? Snow? And so a rumor started, and kids would get their hopes up and talk about possible cancellations. There was nothing better than when school was cancelled, not when you're only sixteen years old.

"We're supposed to get three feet!" Colin leaned forward in his seat, looking around – meeting the eyes of those who were listening to him. "That's what I heard?"

"Where did you hear that? It's just a bunch of shit."

"I heard it from Marcus."

Dick Grayson lifted his head slightly, taking a moment to concentrate on the topic of discussion. He had heard the rumors, and wasn't much for them. To him, missing school only meant that he'd have to make it up later, probably during the summer. _No thank you_. "Where did Marcus hear that? I was listening to the radio on the way to school. It didn't say anything about snow."

"Well, Marcus said he heard that it was supposed to snow." Colin answered, a bit upset that he had been challenged in the matter. He knew better than to argue with Grayson, the kid was a year older than him, and not to mention ten times more popular. "I'm just saying."

"So am I." Dick responded, shrugging his shoulders and turning back to reading his text book – American Literature.

"What are you reading that for?" The girl to Dick's left leaned over and pointed at the book, her hand blocking a few words and calling off the boy's attention. "It's not like we have anything due, or a test or a quiz."

Dick shrugged his shoulders, taking the book up and snapping it shut. He shoved it into his backpack and glanced up at the clock. "I'm just bored – that's all."

"Oh whatev – you're just a goody-goody." The girl gave a pretty smile, her blonde hair swishing as she moved back. Her name was Katie, and while Dick wasn't head over heels for her, he knew an attractive girl when he saw one. "I heard you got a new car – is this true?"

The boy shrugged once more, as if it were old news. Truth be known he had just gotten the car last week, and was still thrilled about the matter. Bruce had gotten it for him the day he turned sixteen, and it was love at first sight. The car was everything Dick wanted, really – it was. Well, at least for this year. He smiled a bit at Katie. "It's a nice car."

"I'll say. If Bruce Wayne were my dad, I'd want the best car in the World."

"I wouldn't say it's the best in the World – but it'll do."

Katie rolled her eyes, slouching in her seat and pushing out her lower lip. "I wish I had a car, but I don't turn sixteen for another five months."

There was the sound of a door slamming and Dick turned in his seat, finding the teacher entering the room. He frowned, not ready to start class. He had been enjoying the conversation and had been hoping to offer Katie a ride home. Oh well, he could ask after class. He dug into his backpack and pulled out his American Literature book once more, giving Katie a winning smile as she giggled a bit.

"Simon Allen?"

"Here."

"Gabriel Albert?"

* * *

Jason Todd stomped his feet, trying his best to ward off the cold that engulfed him. He glared at the cars passing by up past the parking lot and cursed, wondering when Dick would show. The fifteen year old had been waiting out in the cold for the past twenty minutes, and was official _mad_. Usually his older brother was on time – _usually_, so when it came to bundling up, Jason didn't. He had no gloves, no jacket, and no hat – just an old sweatshirt. After all, why risk looking nerdy when all it took was a few minutes of being cold?

Shifting his weight, Jason dug into his satchel, pulling out his cell phone and turning it on. He waited a few seconds, watching it start up and shivering as he did so. Then, he pushed speed dial 6 - getting his brother's number.

"Jays?"

"Where _are_ you?! I've been waiting for the past hour out here in this cold, and you're not here!" Jason paced up and down the sidewalk outside of his school. "It doesn't take this long to get out to your car and -." He paused, having heard the sound of a girl laughing.

"Listen Jay, I'll be there in just a few minutes, I just have to take care of something real fast – alright?"

"No, not alright – who is there with you?" Jason glared in the direction his brother was supposed to come and saw nothing. "You're hanging out with friends!"

Dick didn't answer, he simply hung up.

"Damnit!" Jason looked around once more and then pushed the 4 on his phone – dialing Bruce's number with a satisfied smirk. If he couldn't get Dick to listen to him, _fine_, then he'd just get Dick to listen to Bruce.

"Wayne Enterprises, how may I help you?"

"Hey, it's Jason, I need to talk to my dad." The teenager frowned, wondering why he had gotten Sarah, Bruce's secretary. After all, he had the emergency number – he should get right to the source.

"He's in the middle of a meeting, Jason dear – could I take a message?"

"Yeah, sure – just tell him that I'm waiting to be picked up at school. Dick isn't around and it's been a _long_ time. So if he could just give Dick a call and tell him to come get me, that'd be great." He paused and then added on, making sure she knew it was important. "It's really cold out here."

Sarah laughed. "I'll tell him, hon."

"Thanks, Sarah." Jason flipped his phone shut and stomped his foot once more, continuing to wait. He wondered what Tim was doing. His little brother was only eight, and probably hadn't even thought to use his cell phone. It was then, as Jason was thinking, that he saw Dick's car cruising down the road. The teenager pushed his cell phone back into his satchel and heaved it up, hugging himself as the car pulled before him. "Where the fuck where you?"

Dick watched as Jason got into the passenger seat and gave an innocent smile. "I had to drop a friend off. They didn't have a ride home, I just thought I would help them out – you know?"

"No. We go to a school for rich kids. I don't believe a word you're saying." He strapped in and rubbed his hands together. "I don't think you understand just how cold it is out there."

"Not my fault you didn't bring a jacket."

"Not my fault you didn't bring a jacket." Jason mimicked, sounding twice as annoying as Dick had. He lifted his hands to the small vent as the pulled out, back into the road, heading towards Tim's school. "You do realize how late you are?"

"Let it go, I was just helping out a friend, nothing wrong with that."

"Yeah, but Tim was supposed to be picked up half an hour ago, that means that -." Jason didn't finish, he was interrupted by Dick's phone playing a short and grinding tune. He closed his mouth, recognizing the ring tone.

"Hey Dad." Dick answered, sounding as normal as could be. He was quiet for a moment and then gave Jason a dirty look. "No, I picked him up. He's right next to me, we're on our way to get – I helped a friend. …They _didn't_ have a _ride_ home. …I'm sorry, I didn't think about his school calling – no … yes, well – well, uh … fine."

Jason decided to look out the window and hope that his older brother wouldn't kill him when this was done and over with. _Oh well, he got what was coming to him_. He was still cold and a bit on the bitter side from having to freeze outside. Alfred never made them wait, and ever since Dick had gotten his car things had changed. He was the one who picked up everyone, called all the shots, made them wait. It hadn't even been a week yet and Jason was a bit jealous and a bit irked.

"Yeah, you called and I answered – what was I supposed to do?" Dick came to a stop light at which he turned and slugged Jason in the arm – _hard_.

"Ow!"

"Ok, I won't do it anymore – yeah. Yeah, that's _what _I _said_." He paused and frowned. "It wasn't an hour, it's only been like ten minutes. …Ok, fine, bye." He flipped the phone shut and dropped it in his lap, hitting the gas as the light changed color. "Why did you call him?!"

"You hung up on me!" Jason defended. "You were late, and it was cold – what was I supposed to do? Walk home?"

Dick sped up, jerking in front of a slower car. "I wouldn't have minded. I was just helping a friend and you all act like it's some sort of horrible thing. I was just giving a kid a ride and everyone makes it into some huge ordeal and says _I'm _not responsible."

The fifteen year old in the passenger seat gave a small smirk. "Did Tim's school call or something?"

"None of your business."

"Sure it ain't." Jason watched as they pulled into Brookview Elementary School. It was a small private school where both Dick and Jason had gone when they were in elementary. It had been a rule of thumb – school uniforms and dumb rules until you became a teenager. Then you could decide to go to the Gotham public schools. It had been an easy choice for both the teenagers to make. Brookview was hardly the place to have fun.

"You go get him." Dick said, messing with his iPod hook up in the car.

Jason made a face but got out of the car, slamming the door and walking towards the school. He entered and walked down to the gym, where he heard screaming and laughter – the after school program probably. Jason entered and found Tim right away, sitting beside the door, clutching his backpack and watching the crowd of his peers.

"Hey Timmy-boy, you ready to go home yet?"

Tim lifted his head, a smile crossing his face at the sight of his older brother. "You guys are late – they had to call home to find out what was taking so long."

"Yeah, well, it's not my fault. Dick thought he'd take a girl on a date before he came to get us. Complain to him." Jason grabbed Tim's backpack as he watched his little brother slowly rise up. "We got to tell a teacher you're going or something?"

Nodding, Tim pointed to a woman sitting before a young girl, putting on a Band-Aid. "She's in charge here." The eight-year-old took his satchel from his brother and trailed behind, staying close at hand, as if afraid of those all around.

"I'm Tim's brother – here to pick him up." Jason said to the woman, glancing at the little girl next to her. She was staring at him oddly, looking between Tim and him, as if it were something strange. "What do you want?"

The girl blushed and lowered her head, shaking it.

"Oh, right – you're a bit late, I'm afraid. I hope it doesn't happen again. If it does, perhaps you should consider telling your parents that they should invest in the after school program here." The woman obviously didn't like Jason, probably for his rude comment to the girl, but the fact that he was late didn't help.

Jason decided he didn't like her either. "You might want to tell that not to me."

She gave a cool smile and turned away. "Then I'll simply call your parents."

"Fine." Jason turned away, leaving the gym and feeling even more upset. He had gotten the heat when it was Dick's fault. Stupid Dick – stupid new car – stupid …

"Why did you do that?" Tim demanded. "That was Gracie! Now she's going to hate me even more."

"She was staring at me, what was I supposed to do? Why do you care? Do you like her? Huh? Is that it? Timmy and Gracie, huh?" Jason knew he was being dumb, but didn't care. It was just the way he was. Talk without thinking, act without thinking – it was what he lived by. "Timmy and Gracie, sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G. First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes Timmy Jr. in a baby carriage."

"SHUT UP!" Tim yelped, pushing his brother a bit as they went through the double doors, walking towards the car where Dick looked annoyed that they had taken as long as they had. "She's in the third grade, she calls me a baby."

"Well, you should be in the third grade too, so what's the deal? Just because you were held back two years doesn't mean that it's hopeless – just almost hopeless." Jason slid into the car and gave Dick a look. "What's your problem?"

The driver shook his head. "And you say I took forever to pick you up."

Jason scoffed, not enjoying the tone he was getting. He and Dick always got along just fine. After all, they were only a year apart in age. But they were _brothers_, and they were different. Dick was more down to earth, understanding, and been moved a grade up because he was so smart. In short, he was _perfect_. Jason on the other hand was rude, hyperactive, and had already been held back once. They clashed at times, so it wasn't unusual for this to happen, and it never lasted too long. It was just their weekly fight. "You took half an hour! I was in there for five minutes!"

Dick didn't answer. He drove in silence all the way home, not even glancing at Tim when the boy asked what had taken so long – and if he really had a girlfriend.

When they got into the Manor Alfred was there waiting, looking slightly concerned. "Master Richard – you're late."

"I took a friend home." Dick answered, giving Jason a pointed look. "So we're a bit late, yeah."

"So he says." Jason answered, and he received a shove from Dick. This wasn't very welcome, especially considering the events of the day. Jason didn't waste any time in shoving the other boy back, dropping his satchel, preparing to take care of things his way – if need be.

"Gentlemen!" Alfred called out.

Dick ignored him, plowing right into Jason and shoving him against the wall. He was shorter than his younger brother, a smaller frame. He was the only one of his brothers that actually looked _different_. His skin was an obvious shade darker, he was shorter, and his hair was so much blacker. The gypsy heritage was obvious.

Jason and Tim on the other hand – well, they were obviously Americans. Tim was small for his age, seeing as he was often taken for a six year old, but that was the only difference. Otherwise Jason and Tim could be blood brothers.

"They're fighting!" Tim shrieked, jumping up and down at the sight of his older brothers tumbling about the entrance hall.

"Young sirs!" Alfred managed to get between the two, forcing them apart long enough for the parties to calm down enough to realize what they were doing. "Fighting in this household is unacceptable and will not be tolerated. Now, perhaps both of you should collect your things and make your way to your bedrooms."

Jason grabbed up his satchel and left the room. Dick watched him go, glaring after his brother as if it were his fault. "Sorry Alfred, I didn't mean to fight like that – I just … he was being dumb all day long and it was inevitable."

Alfred quirked an eyebrow at the comment and shook his head. "Excuses are not acceptable; though I'll take you're apology. Perhaps you should work on homework?"

"Yeah."

* * *

Jason climbed out of the window and slid onto the rooftop. There, hidden in the gutter, was a metal box, locked up and a bit rusty. The boy snatched it up and climbed a bit higher, till he could see all the way clear to the ocean. It was nice living on the outskirts of Gotham; it at least had a view. In one direction lay the city, in the other the ocean. Bruce paid well for the grounds.

Slipping a key into the hole, Jason pried the lid open and pulled out the box of cigarettes and a lighter. There was an envelope inside too, inside were a few pictures and some money. Nothing much, but to the boy – it was an importance.

He lit up, sighing happily at the comfort of the situation. Bruce wouldn't be home for about half an hour – giving Jason enough time for a good smoke. His family had thought he'd quit, given up the habit that he had come with, but it was a lie. Jason had figured the perfect time to smoke, and it was just before Bruce came home. Alfred was in the kitchen preparing dinner, Tim was allowed to watch television, and Dick was almost always working on homework.

The boy leaned forward, blowing the smoke. It was simple enough to fool people who wanted to think you didn't do something wrong. Their trust and love was strong enough to give you the benefit of the doubt. Besides, all Jason had to do was shower and make sure to get his clothes smoke free. Nobody knew, though they suspected at times.

Smoker's cough, an easy give away. There were only so many times you could claim that it was just a 'bit of a cold'. Oh well, Jason figured he didn't have to worry too much, it wasn't like he was a constant cougher, just every now and then it came and went.

"Fuck you, Mr. Jones, I've got my own set of guns and I'm not afraid to shot." Jason sang under his breath, shivering a little from the cold air. He pulled his sweat jacket's hood up and glared a little.

"Jays?"

Jason froze at the sound of Tim's voice in his room. He cursed under his breath as he put out the cigarette and slid down, the shingles crunching under him. "What are you doing in my room? I locked the door!"

Tim hurried over to the window, eyes wide as he looked at his brother. "You're on the roof." There was a pause and then a cough followed by a disgusted face. "You stink."

The older boy caught Tim's waving hand and stepped back into his room. "Well, that's 'cause it smells like smoke outside or something. I think someone might be burning leaves. Though, I wouldn't tell anyone about that – it's illegal."

"Then shouldn't I tell?"

"No, I think it's a poor hobo who wants to stay warm so he won't _die_." Jason answered, pulling his jacket off and tossing it on the bed. "How did you unlock the door?"

Tim was leaning out the window, looking to see if he could maybe find the poor man. "I got the master key – Alfred keeps it in his room."

Jason momentarily watched Tim and then shook his head. "Get out, I want to shower."

"You always shower."

"I get dirty."

"HEY! _LOOKIE_!" Tim was on his tiptoes, about ready to climb out the window when Jason caught him, pulling the boy back. "Stop it, there's a secret box out there. I saw it, it's _mine_!"

Jason slid back out on the roof and grabbed the box, shutting it tight and turning to find Tim half out the window. "Get back in the house!"

The eight-year-old shook his head, eyeing the box. "I saw it first, that makes it mine. I'll tell if you don't give it to me. I'll tell that you were on the roof." Tim was now beside Jason, clutching his brother's arm, scared of the heights slightly.

"It's my box, alright. I just hide it out here so people like you can't fine it. Now I gotta' get a new hiding spot." Jason said.

Tim was covering his nose and mouth, to ward off the bad smell. "What's inside it?"

"Um, things. It's a secret. Let's get back inside now, before it gets too cold."

The two made their way back into the room, Jason holding the box and looking innocently at his little brother. "Why don't you go work on your homework or something?"

"I don't have homework."

"It must be nice being in first grade."

Tim nodded, then turned away and left the room, having lost interest.

* * *

Bruce was pulling down the lane of Wayne Manor when Tim sprinted out in front of his car – causing him to slam on the breaks. The man had just gotten off a long day of work, and while he wasn't in a bad mood, it could have been better. He pushed his lips together as he watched he eight-year-old lift up a dirty soccer ball, looking as innocent as he could manage. The billionaire motioned for Tim to come.

The boy walked over to the rolled down window, seemingly confused. "What do you want?"

"I think you know what I want."

"My soccer ball?" Tim lifted the ball up, passing it into the car.

Bruce frowned, taking it away and shaking his head. "Not your soccer ball – but that will do. What were you thinking running out in front of my car like an idiot? You know better."

Tim shrugged his shoulders, shivering from the cold and rubbing his gloved hands together. "I didn't see the car, my ball went out there and I followed. I was playing soccer, that's what you're supposed to do – Dick told me. He said you kick the ball into the goal, and the goal is over there. Dick and Jason got in a fight."

The billionaire, who had an argument built up, closed his mouth. The conversation turn was sudden and unexpected. "You're getting away from the point – don't run out into the driveway like that."

"Can I have my ball back?"

"No." And the man pulled forward, rolling up his window and leaving an upset eight year old running behind him. He parked, and then walked into the house, Timothy trailing at his side – talking about how Dick had been late to get him, about how Jason said mean things to a girl named Gracie, and then about how Dick and Jason started to really fight and how Alfred had to stop them.

"I didn't even do anything. I just watched." Tim said as Bruce unzipped his jacket. "What are you going to do about it?"

The man said nothing, hanging up the article of clothing, happy to finally be home. He didn't much care about what was being said – well, not completely. It was important, but from the sound of things Alfred had taken care of it. He knew perfectly well that he wouldn't have to worry _too _much about such things because _Alfred simply took care of them_.

"Can I have my ball back, _please_. It's not mine, I borrowed it from Dick." Tim followed Bruce into the sitting room, all the way to his office. He kept saying random facts about his day, and kept making sure to ask every few seconds about the soccer ball. "He'll be mad if I don't give it back to him."

"I'll give it back to Dick, don't worry."

"Why can't you just give it to me?"

Bruce simply gave the child a look and the questions died away. Tim turned, left the room, and left Bruce to relax slightly. This was _his _time now, right after work – where he could just sit in his study and … well, work on work, but _still_. He started shuffling through some files that he dug out of his briefcase concerning the new offer that McCarthy had suggested. He wasn't really _for _the offer, but it seemed everyone else was. A loud bang sounded off above his head followed by raised voices and a door slamming.

The billionaire froze, hoping that he wouldn't have to do anything about the matter. Hoping that the boys would solve it on their own – _please solve it on your own_. He didn't know why, but Jason and Dick were starting to get all the more testy. They fought more often, and did stupid things that got them into trouble. All in all, they just weren't using their head. Bruce relaxed a bit as the noise died away and things seemed to be fine once more. _Good_.

Dick wasn't near as bad as Jason was, though he had his days. No – Dick had always been the more common sensed of the three. Of course, he was the eldest – things were naturally different for him. Dick had lived at the Manor for eight years now, two more than Jason and Tim had. His story had been interesting, considering. His parents were performers, his parents both from Romania. They were in Haley's Traveling Circus. When an accident occurred the billionaire found himself making an impulsive choice and adopting Richard Grayson. He blamed his youthful ignorance and Alfred. The butler never said anything about the manadopting the boy – but made sure Bruce knew how horrible life would be for the child. And Bruce _could _relate – no doubt about it. So, Dick had started to live at Wayne Manor then and there. Things were hard for the first year, _very hard_, but they learned how to live with each other.

Richard had been an experience that forced Bruce Wayne to grow up faster then ever before. Going from a single playboy billionaire bachelor to having an eight year old from the circus was harder than expected. But he had learned, and he had grown, and he had been happy.

It was Jason who came next, and totally … unwelcome at first. His childhood had been the story of just about every kid living in Crime Alley – _bad_. His parents were young dropouts when the boy had been born, from what Bruce had heard. They stayed together for a long time, longer than most in their situation. It was when Jason was four that they split up and split custody. And the games began.

Jason was simply a way that they would get back at each other, mostly Steven Todd getting back at his wife. The woman was … well, she wasn't exactly all there, but she cared about her child. So, if she made Steven mad then Jason would get it when he was there for half the week. Calls had been made so often to the Child Protection Services that they were written off, said that it was just a marital dispute and that Jason wasn't abused. Typical Gotham.

The boy's mother died when he was six, leaving him in full custody of his father, which wasn't _as _bas as it _could _be. He was just your normal Gotham City slums kid, backhanded or smacked around every now and then – nothing big compared with some of the stuff that could have happened. Though – that was just at first. Bruce had seen the files, and they weren't good. The boy's father had sold the child out for money a few times, after all – most insane people were rich and were willing to pay a lot for the kid. Steven couldn't say no, and after all – it didn't really bother him _that _much, so he said.

And it would have kept going on that way if Dick Grayson and Steven Todd hadn't crossed paths. At the time, Dick and Jason were about the same height – same hair and eye color – the only difference being the shade of their skin. Though, when you're drunk things tend to get a bit fuzzy, and Steven Todd had mistaken Dick for Jason. He had dragged the ten year old off, and when Dick had resisted, started to hit him.

It had been the _rare _time Bruce Wayne stopped for gas. After all, he _never _stopped for gas – but on that day he was forced to. At the time he didn't think much of it, just a bit annoyed. Though, looking back it seemed like it was meant to happen. Richard had gone inside the building, bored and not wanting to wait – and that's when it happened. Dick of course ran, unlike Jason, and told Bruce what had happened. And things were taken care of then and there.

When the police came they arrested Steven Todd on other accounts that he had been wanted for and also discovered Jason.

Bruce had said no. He didn't want another kid, especially not an abused one that would take up so much … well, he hated to admit it now, but _time_. It was a huge workload, and he knew better than to think he could do it well, so he had said no. Though, Dick wasn't about ready to let the matter go. He kept talking about it, and pointing out how horrible it would be to live a life like Jason's and so on so forth. So the billionaire had said he'd find Jason a family, a good family. And he did, or so he thought. It was a married couple who already had a three year old, but they didn't hesitate to take in the nine year old.

The only problem was the fact that Jason wasn't about ready to settle down kindly into a normal family life. And the family wasn't truly as prepared as they had thought they would be. He was hyperactive and an attention seeking screwed up kid. It only took a week before they admitted defeat.

Nobody came for Jason, and nobody appeared remotely able to handle the matter. So, after about six months of trying to help find the orphan a new home, Bruce decided to just take the boy in. So he did. And it was just as much work as Dick had been – and then some.

Jason launched out of trees, falling to the ground on purpose. He used the stair railing on the third floor as a balance beam, and about killed himself in the process. It probably didn't help that Dick was a natural gymnast – and challenges were always being held. If Richard climbed to the top of the tree, then Jason would too. If Dick performed a triple flip off the jungle gym, then Jason put his heart and soul into it. It wasn't till accidents were becoming out of hand that he was put into counseling and started medication. Leslie Thompson, Bruce's family friend – a doctor – explained he was simply ADHD to an extreme, an attention seeker due to his abusive past, and a hundred other things.

And then, as if things weren't hard enough – Jack Drake died.

Bruce never really _knew_ his neighbor very well. Sure, they saw each other about once a week at various gatherings, business meetings, and parties – or through the kids. Jack's wife had died – murdered according to what Bruce had heard. And she and her husband had a three year old, Timothy.

It was Alfred who made the connections with the boys. Jason and Dick had been gallivanting on the grounds and crossed onto the Drake property – which amazed Bruce. It was a few miles to the other grounds, a few miles through woods and _over_ a river. And when they had arrived there they ran into Jack himself. The man and the boys talked – and he discovered that they were Wayne's kids – and he introduced Tim.

From what Bruce knew Jason and Dick didn't much care for a three year old hanging out with them. It was a chore, he dragged them down when they wanted to rough house, or explore – but he had some cool things at his house, and so they would stay and play there.

When Jack got sick he had asked for Bruce Wayne, to the billionaire's shock. The dying man explained that he didn't have relatives that he wanted his son to stay with. He explained that he realized that the two didn't know each other, and there were nothing that Bruce owed him but … he wanted to ask.

If Tim had brothers like Jason and Dick, perhaps he wouldn't be so lonely. And besides, he knew Bruce and their parents had known each other so … so could he take Timothy?

And what could be said to that?

So Timothy Drake had come, at three years old, to live at Wayne Manor.

A three year old had seemed almost impossible to Bruce – especially at night when Alfred would turn the responsibility over to _him_. Taking care of … well, practically a baby wasn't something he knew anything about. And he had thought Dick and Jason were little. In just a few days Dick seemed to age about ten years. Though, as difficult as it had been those first few days it seemed to die away once Alfred taught him a few things.

The main point taught was that Dick and Jason were the best babysitters for Tim.

Tim would trail around with them wherever they went, and sometimes it got a little scary. Bruce would come home from work and find all the boys gone. Alfred would explain that they were playing outside since that _morning_, but had stopped in for lunch.

And then when they did get home it was a sight to be seen. Dirty, bloody, bruised and scraped, but oddly enough – they were happy. Tim would talk in broken sentences that sometimes made sense … and sometimes didn't. He would talk about all the things that had happened to him, and Bruce could see exactly what Jack Drake had meant when he had wanted his son to have brothers.

"I'M TELLING ON YOU!"

The screaming upstairs started again, followed by a door slamming and Tim shrieking. Bruce shoved back from his desk, slightly startled by the scream. He made his way out of his office and upstairs towards the crying. There he found Jason and Dick looking down at Tim, who sat on the floor holding his hand and sobbing rather loudly. "What happened?"

"He was bothering me." Jason muttered.

"And?"

"His hand got caught in my door."

The billionaire crouched down and took Tim's hand up, looking it over and saying nothing. It wasn't bad, just a scratch, some blood, and probably a bit of a bruise tomorrow. It wasn't anything bad, a type of thing that would happened when Tim would get hurt while playing outside, and he never cried then. The difference was that the eight-year-old wasn't having fun. "Why did you slam the door on him?"

Jason was quiet for a moment, looking at Dick and then at Tim. "He was _bothering_ me."

"Th-that's not true!" Tim wailed. "He had my stuff!"

"It's not your stuff, dumbass!" The teenager growled, stepping forward with a stomp. "He saw something of mine and wants it is all! It's _mine_ not _his_!"

"Jason!" Bruce snapped.

"Finders keepers!" Tim yelled, his hand forgotten. "I found it on his roof early this afternoon, it's _mine_."

"No it's not!"

"Yes it is!"

"It's my stuff!"

"It's mine!"

"HEY!" Bruce held up his hands and watched as Dick moved towards Jason's room, peeking inside as if to see what they were arguing about. "Jason – why did you have a box of stuff on the roof?"

The boy was turning a bit red now. "_My _things from my parents is what! And it's not anybody's but mine – and you guys don't got the right to take it from me!" The boy went into his room and grabbed the box, holding it to his chest.

Dick instantly turned and went into his room, finding the argument just to have crossed into a zone that he didn't enjoy.

"Timothy – that's Jason's stuff." Bruce said in a hushed voice. "He didn't say it was his parent's stuff, he said it was just a secret – meaning he didn't know." Tim answered, frowning at the discovery that the box was suddenly off limits. "I want a box."

"_I want a box._" Jason mimicked. "You don't even remember your parents, what do you need a box for? You just want to copy, like usual."

"Jason – come _on_." Bruce said, sounding rather tired. Leave it to Jason to make something bad just a little worse. He had the bad habit of paying people who did him wrong back tenfold, though Tim knew how to hold his own in a battle against his older brother.

The eight year old was quiet for a moment, as if trying to decide whether to cry or to fight back. "At least my parents were nice to me."

_And there it is._ Bruce lifted the child up and motioned towards Jason. "How about you clean the room a little ok – Alfred isn't a slave, you know."

Jason was glaring, doing his best to hide the blow from Tim's comment. "You pay him don't you?" A look shut him right up.

"Tim, you need to apologize to Jason."

"Sorry." Tim muttered bitterly.

"Don't say you're sorry if you don't mean it." Bruce told him, lugging the child out of the room.

_To Be Continued … _


	2. Chapter 2

"Shall I shy down? That's boring, snoring."

_Shine_ **Carbon Leaf**

_**You Do Good, You Find Good**_

**By: The BatThing**

"You're slow at this. I can just do it myself." Tim stated as he pulled his foot back, causing Bruce to fumble the knot on the boy's shoe. The billionaire bachelor glanced up with a look of impatience, wishing that he could age Tim about ten years – that'd be good. Then there wouldn't be any more of these irksome moments.

"You _asked_ me to help you with your shoe because _you couldn't tie it_." Pulling the shoe back, Bruce was determined to finish the task. Besides, whenever Tim tied them they always came _untied_. It was a proven fact. "Don't move."

Tim didn't move, well, not at first, but after about half a second it was inevitable. He was swinging his feet lightly, not really thinking about it as he ate his piece of toast. Simply daydreaming on other things, and forgetting that his guardian was frustrated.

Bruce jerked the strings to Tim's shoe a bit gruffly, causing the eight-year-old to jerk forward and widen his eyes. "_Please_ **sit** **still**."

"I was!"

"No you weren't."

"_Yes_ I _was_! I wasn't moving at all. I was eating my toast and not moving … I got jelly on my shirt." His hand moved up, smearing the jelly all the more as he attempted to get rid of it. "Oops."

"There – your shoe is tied – and now you have to go change your shirt. Great." He looked at Tim who looked back at him as if confused. "Well – go change! _Hurry!_ You're going to be late for school!"

Tim shook his head, finishing his breakfast and licking his fingers as his attention was drawn to where Jason sat watching television. "No … it's ok."

Taking in a deep breath, Bruce checked his watch – ten minutes before he had to leave. "Timothy – _go_! GO!"

"Bu-but why? This is my only clean school shirt, I _have _to wear it. Alfred is still cleaning my other ones, so I can't wear them." The boy started to make his way towards where Jason was sitting, ignoring Bruce once again.

_Why did I ever agree to take Jason and Tim to school_? "Timothy – I'm _leaving_ in ten minutes, and if you're not ready, then you're going to _wish_ you had been. I know, for a fact, that you have hundreds of those shirts in your room, there is _no way_ Alfred is cleaning all of them. So – _TIM_!" The man grabbed the absent minded child by the arm, pulling him back with a short temper. "Are we listening?"

The boy rolled his eyes, a habit he was picking up from Jason – it was annoying. "I _heard_ you, I'm _going_!" He moved towards the steps, occasionally glancing over his shoulder to check what was happening on the cartoon playing. His pace slowed down, till it came to a complete halt at the landing of the staircase. Tim was simply watching the television now, having forgotten his original destination.

Bruce was _not_ amused. Tim was acting like an idiot, even if he was eight; it was more than just a little stressful. Forgetting his plan to go eat the breakfast that Alfred had laid out for him, he grudgingly made his way to where Tim stood. Taking the boy by the upper arm, he escorted him towards his bedroom, not enjoying the fact that he was going to have to do this _for_ Tim.

"JASON!" Dick was walking down the hall, coming towards the two, and not caring about them. "JASON! DID YOU TAKE MY JEANS?!"

"YOU HAVE A THOUSAND PAIR OF JEANS!" Jason yelled back, unwilling to move from his comfortable position on the couch. "WHY WOULD I TAKE THEM?"

Dick grumbled under his breath, unhappy with his younger brother. It was evident in his voice that he wasn't in an understanding mood. "BECAUSE YOU _TOOK_ MY _OTHER_ PAIR?"

Jason was more than ready with a reply, quick to escape any blame aimed in his direction. "I DIDN'T TAKE THOSE, ASSHOLE. ALFRED PUT THEM IN MY ROOM!"

"YOU -."

Bruce winced from the loud voices going back and forth. A headache was already coming on from Tim, and now Dick and Jason were participating in a yelling competition. "_Dick_! Stop yelling – all you have to do is go downstairs to have a _normal_ conversation."

"But Jason _took_ my jeans."

"Don't you have any other jeans? You can't _possibly_ fool me into believing that you don't have _other_ jeans to wear."

Dick scoffed a bit. "Well, he's alwaystaking my stuff. I'm missing a pair of jeans – who else would have them? Jason is the only one who would take them."

Rubbing his temples, Bruce exhaled. "Jason is _bigger _than you, Dick – why would he take them? What would he do with them? If it's _such _a big deal, then just tell Alfred, and he'll _buy _you another pair."

"You probably lost them or something." Tim added in a nonchalant manner, sucking on his pinky finger as he listened to the conversation.

"What's wrong with the jeans you're wearing?"

"Nothing, I just want my other jeans."

"Maybe Alfred threw them away. He threw away my jeans yesterday when they had a hole in them." Once more, Tim gave his thoughts on the subject, looking very serious. "They just had a little hole, and Alfred threw them away."

Bruce started once more towards Tim's room, dragging the talking boy with him, remembering that time wasn't on his side this morning. He _had _to get going – there was a meeting this morning he _couldn't_ be late fore. "Don't make unnecessary problems, Richard."

Dick looked shocked at the reply to his troubles. Why was it that nobody else saw the trouble here? Jason got away with taking _his stuff_! Jason had _tattled _on him yesterday, making Bruce take away his car for a week, and yet _he _was the one who was getting the grief? Unfair. Dick knew better than to say more to Bruce, so he decided it was best to go nag Jason over the matter. After all, he wasn't about ready to let something like this slide past so easily. On a normal day, maybe – but not when Jason was the reason his car was gone for a whole week.

The teenager hurried down the steps, lugging his backpack in an unhappy manner. He found his younger brother watching some _stupid_ cartoon. How typical.

"_Jakers! It's the tales of our pal Piggley! Ireland is the world he loves so well. He wriggles out of spots that are downright stickley. How he does that, only he can tell."_ The show theme played in a bothersome way, but Jason didn't seem to notice. It was obviously a child's show, but it worked to take one's mind of just about anything.

"Jason, where are my jeans?" Dick demanded, openly declaring that he was up and ready for a fight with his brother. If he hadn't wanted to fight, he would have let the matter go when Bruce had told him too, but no – he _wanted_ Jason to get in a foul mood. Maybe then Bruce would yell at the middle child.

"_Piggley, Ferny, Molly and Dannan never miss a chance to have too much fun. In Tara or Raloo lots of excitement for everyone. Curiosity's in a hurry leaving no time to stop and think..."_

Jason ignored his older brother for all of ten seconds, forcing himself to turn away from the mindless entertainment. "I told you, I don't got your fuckin' jeans. You heard Dad. I don't wear your _fucking._ _Small._ _Size_."

Oh. Fine. _Great_. "Is that supposed to mean something? You're three inches taller then me, Jason – stop being a baby and fight your own battles instead of running to dad."

"Six inches."

"What?"

"You heard me. I'm six inches taller than you – not three. And I _don't_ run to dad." Jason wanted to stand up, but felt that now wasn't the time. He had to look calm and collect in front of his older brother. Dick had a way of making Jason so mad he'd talk without thinking and make a fool of himself.

"…_The line between wild and crazy gets blurry, Jakers! The adventures of Piggley Winks. Something in the way his eyes start blazing tells us he's onto a brand new plan. His lips curl up, it's downright amazing. Looking for mischief, well, he's your man._ _Piggley, Ferny, Molly and Dannan never miss a chance to have too much fun."_

"Really? It seems to me like that's all you do."

Jason glared, tossing his head in a careless manner – but not pulling off the impression that he was 'all that'. "Seems to me like you're in a fuckin' bad mood. What's up your ass?"

"It's the fact that Dad has to take us to school, the fact that _my_ car is gone for a week because _you _whined that you were too cold, that's what's bothering me."

"_In Tara or Raloo lots of excitement for everyone. They go to bed just to wake up early to get in trouble or on the brink. The line between wild and crazy gets blurry, Jakers! The adventures of Piggley Winks."_

"Maybe you should try coming on time instead of taking your girlfriends for joyrides like some badass rich snob. Just because you got a new car doesn't mean you're better than me." He decided now was a good time to stand up, sitting no longer helped his confidence. He _was_ taller then Dick, he might as well use it to his advantage. "You're just pissed because now you don't got any way to impress your prep friends."

Dick scoffed, finding his brother's words more amusing then anything. "You're jealous – just because you can't _get_ friends doesn't give you the grounds to make _me_ miserable because I have some."

This comment did more to anger Jason then any of the others. He instantly glared. "Do you hear yourself? 'You can't get friends' Oh boo-fucking-hoo, Dick."

"Dick and Jason are fighting!"

The two teenagers looked behind them to find Tim watching with a surprised expression. They both fell silent, finding a common enemy for a few minutes, depending on the outcome of their situation.

"Jason said the four letter word that starts with an F and is bad!" Tim added as he stepped back, seeing he might be in need of help if his brothers decided to silence him. Fortunately, Bruce was already heading down the stairs, carrying Tim's backpack. "Why do you have my backpack?"

"Because you forgot it."

Tim silently accepted the object, but didn't let it derive his attention for too long. He turned back to see what Bruce might do concerning Jason and Dick – it was always pleasant to watch someone besides himself get into trouble with the head-honcho. "Jason said the-."

"I know. I heard you the first time you said it, Tim. Thank you. It's getting late, let's get going."

"But what about Jason and Dick, they were fighting! They were saying bad words and stuff. Aren't you going to yell at _them_?!" The eight-year-old pouted as he followed his father, awkwardly positioning his backpack. "What are you going to do about it?"

Bruce turned, finally at the end of his line. "None of your business, Timothy – _get in the car_." His tone did more than his words, and Tim was heading outdoors without a second thought. Pleased with this, Bruce turned to deal with Jason and Dick. Dick was looking as innocent as he could manage while Jason was simply looking like he wished the man would drop dead. There was nothing out of the ordinary there. "I don't even want to deal with it right now, guys. Jason – we've been over it thousands of times – your language _isn't _acceptable. So, seeing as you keep forgetting this fact, we'll make a rule."

"That's not fair – Dick started it."

"You cuss again, and I hear about it, you're grounded for a week. How's that sound?"

"_Bad_."

"Great, let's get going." Bruce forced a smiled and headed out the doors, pleased the think that they would finally be in the car – and soon he would be at work, away from all this fighting. That way he could at least have a little time to regenerate his energy and patience. A strange thought, looking forward to work – but on morning's like this, he couldn't help it.

* * *

That afternoon Jason was working on his algebra homework, wishing that there was a way he could magic it done, but knowing better. He'd occasionally pause in the middle of his work to think of ways he could not do the problems, but still get them done. Sure, there was cheating – but not when it came to Algebra. His teacher was evil like that, he'd compare papers, Jason knew about that. After being caught once, he knew better than to try his luck again so soon.

He doodled a bit in the margin, taking his attention to simpler things when he heard a soft sobbing coming from down the hall. The teenager rolled off his bed in a curious manner, and headed towards Tim's room, realizing that it was his little brother.

This wasn't such a strange thing, Tim cried a lot – but it wasn't like there were a lot of reasons he'd be crying _right now_.

"Tim? What's wrong?" Jason found the door to the room open and entered unannounced, as he did so many times before. "What you crying about?"

"I'm – I'm not crying!" Two red eyes looked up from the bed, where Tim lay on his belly, head lifting away from his arms. "G-go away, _Jason_!"

Jason didn't budge, hardly intimidated by the boy. He moved towards the bed, finding it strange that his brother wasn't spilling his guts on _why_ he was crying. When it came to Tim, well, usually there was a lot that the boy would say. In fact, it was a rare occasion when Tim didn't tell you what was on his mind. "You can tell me, it's not like I'll rat you out. What – did you stub your toe? Did you bite your tongue?"

Tim sniffed a bit, his expression softening at Jason's words. He shook his head, sitting up slowly and looking towards the door. "Puh-promise not to tell anyone?"

"Well, sure – why would I tell?"

"Because I tuh-told on you this morning when you said the four letter w-word." Tim reminded, rubbing a hand into his damp eye.

"Oh, yeah – well, I'll let the slide. What's wrong?"

There was a pause and then Tim shook his head. "Remember Gracie?"

Jason thought about this for a moment, not recalling anyone by the name of Gracie. Oh wait – that _one_ girl. Tim's crush! "That girl you like at school?"

"I don't like her anymore." Tim admitted a bit bitterly. He lifted his shirt and showed Jason his belly. "I don't know what it says, but everyone laughed when Devin wrote it at recess." Etched across the eight-year-old's stomach, in blue sharpie, was the word: RETARD.

At this, Jason felt something inside him start to burn. He turned and walked towards Tim's connecting bathroom, starting the sink and getting a washcloth. "Why'd you let them write that on your stomach, Tim?"

"I didn't – Shane said they were giving free tattoos, and I said I didn't want one because Shane makes fun of me all the time. He's in third grade, and says I'm retarded and stupid. He said that if I didn't let him and Devin give me one then they'd tell Gracie that I liked her."

"You could beat them up, Tim – why didn't you lay a punch? Chances are they're all talk and nothing more. If you just hit one in the face, then I'll bet they'd both start crying." Jason handed Tim the washcloth and sat beside his brother. "They're only what – a year older than you?"

"They're bigger then me."

"So? They're just spoiled kids."

Tim patted his tummy with the wet towel and shrugged. "You should come to my school and beat them up for me."

At this the teenager couldn't help but smile. He put his arm around Tim's neck and ruffled his brother's hair. "Yeah, great – I could beat up some third graders, that'd look good."

"Promise you won't tell?"

"…Sure, Tim, I won't tell. Though, you gotta learn to make these assholes leave you alone, otherwise things'll just get worse."

Tim shrugged once more, rubbing a bit more at the words written on his skin. "Jays? What does it say? Is it bad?"

"Nah – it just says your name."

"Buh-but that's not how you spell my name."

Jason thought about it for a moment then smiled and gave a small chuckle. "It's says Christmas."

"…really?"

"Yeah, Christmas – see?"

"Why would they write Christmas on my tummy?"

Getting to his feet, Jason lifted his shoulders. "Because they're dumb."

Tim looked at his stomach once more, pausing in his mission to remove the words. He nodded his head. "I couldn't read it because it was upside down, I see it now though."

"I'm sure you can."

_To be continued …_


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: **Sorry about the last chapter, I was sick when I wrote it and tired. So for half the time I had my eyes closed out of dizziness, so there are a lot more grammar mistakes then usual. I _could_ correct them, but I'm lazy. So instead I apologize! XD

"She was wet from my crying. She was like a sponge, absorbing what I couldn't hold anymore."

**-**The Secret Life of the Bees**-**

_**You Do Good, You Find Good**_

**By: The BatThing**

**Chapter Three:**

Jason didn't bother Tim about the fact that he was being made fun of at school – it wasn't like the teenager didn't already know that. Tim wasn't exactly at the top of his game. Eight years old and struggling through first grade for the second time around, no – Tim had trouble with a lot of things.

He was annoying – usually acting younger then he was. And, when it came to school, he was shy.

Sure, at home the eight-year-old bounced off walls and acted like a complete lunatic, but at school? Tim would turn totally around, he talked to the teacher and that was about it. Other kids didn't stand a chance of getting their elder classmate to utter more then three words at a time.

Jason knew that much, he knew that Tim didn't have any friends, and that Tim was often the subject of ridicule. The fact that he wouldn't talk, was two years older then kids in his class, but still couldn't do half of the stuff they could – well, it didn't help any.

The three boys sat in the television room, gathered for their usual after dinner routine of doing nothing for about an hour. Jason didn't know why they did it, considering they all had TV's in their own room, but more often then not they'd watch TV together here.

"Can't we watch something else?" Tim questioned, turning to look at Dick who lay sprawled across the couch. "We never watch cartoons."

Dick felt his eyes watering, probably due to the fact that he was making himself sleepy by lying on the couch. He poorly stifled a yawn and decided that Tim was annoying him more than usual tonight. "There aren't cartoons on at night."

"Nuh-uh, we just saw one during commercials! Why can't we watch _that_?"

"I have the channel changer, Tim. 'Sides, you have a television in your room – go watch a cartoon there." Dick offered, thinking on all the homework he still had to finish. Ug, what he wouldn't give for it to be summer. He changed the channel once more, wishing that something interesting would be on rather then some dumb reality shows and pointless comedies that weren't amusing at all.

Jason decided that he was more bored here then in his own room and considered leaving, but as soon as the thought entered his head it vanished. He didn't have the self discipline to move at the moment, the television was so mind numbing that it was hard to do anything else than just watch. "Is Diet Geese on?"

"What channel?"

"I think 37 … I think, I don't remember, around that area." Jason explained.

Dick switched through different shows, not bothering to enter the numbers. "It's not on."

"Oh."

"This is _boring_!"

"Then go watch TV in your room, Tim." Jason said. "There are probably a thousand or more TVs in the house. It's not like they're hard to find."

Tim was silent for a moment. "Can you teach me how to fight?"

At this Dick turned, smirking a bit at both his brothers. "Jays teach you how to fight? Like he _even_ knows how to fight – all he knows how to do is run and whine." He couldn't help but still not mock his younger brother, the fact that he didn't have his car was Jason's fault. And even though Dick was letting it go, he couldn't completely yet.

"Yes he can, he's street." The way Tim said it sounded almost convening. At least the youngest believed in Jason's skills completely. "You beated up people, right Jays? Before you lived here, you beated people up and stuff."

Jason forced a smirk, not much caring for the conversation, but understanding why Tim was asking. If this was about Tim's troubles at school, then how could Jason ignore it? His little brother needed help – ok, so he would try to help. "Mainly all you got to do is know how to throw a punch, Tim – well, depending on who you're fighting. I figure it's no football player or anything, right?"

Tim smiled, and shook his head. "Nope, just wondering is all."

"Oh, this ought to be interesting." Dick chimed, resting his chin on the edge of the couch with a lopsided grin. "Let's see Jays' skill in the lively art of fighting. Ex-street kid infiltrates rich-kid's world, his mission? It's to take out anyone who annoys him. The Chronicles of Jason Todd."

"Better than the lame-ass Chronicles of Dick Grayson: Orphaned Gypsy boy who discovers life beyond the circus. His mission? It's to forget he was ever a lowly circus performer." Jason replied, positioning himself in front of Tim and lifting his fist a bit. He spared a glance in Dick's direction and found his older brother scowling at him. "What?"

Dick didn't say a word; he just shook his head, watching the younger two with interest.

"Ok, so – let's say that you want to punch … I dunno, a third grader who might be … making fun of you? We're just pretending here, ok? This is 'hypothetical'."

Tim giggled, and then stopped, looking confused. "What's hypothetical?"

"Forget it, not important. Ok, so – all you do is ball up your fist, yeah – basically like that, but don't put your thumb there." Jason positioned Tim's fist and nodded. "Cool – now, you gotta keep it tight, all your fingers tight and shit. Right? Keep your wrist straight, otherwise you're gonna' hurt yourself. Then, I'd recommend hitting this third grader like this." The teenager stepped back, made a fist, and slowly put it to Tim's face.

"Like that?"

"Yeah, basically – that's just one way to throw a good punch though. You could also use your palm like this." Jason brought the heel of his hand put it under Tim's chin carefully. "Like that. You try it."

Tim balled his fist, and slowly brought it to Jason's face, with a serious expression. "Did I do it right?"

Dick gave a yawn. "Tim, why do you want to learn how to throw a punch?"

"'Cause I just wanna', uh … what if I get attacked? I need to learn how to fight or I'll get hurt, right?" He looked to Jason for assistance in his defense.

"He, uh, he's got a point. You see Tim, Dick never learned how to do much other than flip around, so this isn't really his thing. We gotta' cut guys like him breaks." Jason said with a casual smile, feeling the urge for a smoke. He snorted, trying to divert his attention. "Dad'll be pissed if he sees you fighting though, and Alfred would probably faint – so you know, don't let them find out if you do."

At this Dick started to chuckle, getting to his feet and nodding. "That's good, Jay-Jays, teach Tim how to fight, then teach him how to lie – what's next?" He gave his brother a friendly shove away from Tim. "He's right though Timmy-boy, figures that someone's being a bitch to you at school, right? Well, let me teach you something that Jason never caught on to. One – if you fight at school, they'll catch you and you'll get in trouble. Two – if you fight and get hit, you'll probably get a bruise, Dad'll find out anyhow and … oh yes, you'll get in trouble. That's about all I have to say on the matter."

Jason smiled at Dick, pleased that his older brother was seemingly over being mad at him. Shoving the teenager back, Jason smiled. "Well, word from the street –don't let no one talk smack 'bout you."

"Wow, simply amazing." Dick mocked, grinning. "Talk smack, huh? Sounds pretty street to me."

"Oh, it is – its hard core street, gypsy boy. Now, let's hear you get your circus talk going."

At this Tim regained interest, dropping his first and looking between Jason and Dick. "You-you can talk circus talk? Is that like, another language or something? I heard Dad saying that you could speak another language, but that you wouldn't and Alfred said that it's because you can't really, just a little bit – so can you?"

Dick lifted his eyebrows. "Tim, when you talk, I don't know what you're saying half the time."

"Give Timmy a taste of your bloodline, Dickie, come on." Jason laughed more to himself then anything. "Let's hear it. Come on, please? It's a rare treat to hear you utter the forgotten language of your childhood."

"I don't use it because when I do _you_ make such a big deal out of it, like now!"

"Please, Dickie! _Please_, I want to hear it! I've never heard anything not American."

Jason gave a wide grin at Tim's word. "Yeah, give us 'American' speakers a taste of culture."

"What am I supposed to say?"

Tim thought for a moment, and then shrugged. "Say … hello."

Dick quirked an eyebrow, and lifted his shoulders in reply. "Salut."

"Say no."

"Nu."

"Yes."

"Da – this is dumb, Tim."

Jason smirked a bit. "Say: Where's _the toilet_."

Tim burst into laughter, nodding his head. "Can you say _that_?"

Dick rolled his eyes at his younger brother's stupid immature jokes. "Unde este toaleta?"

"Una estea …" Tim stumbled a bit. "Say it again."

"No, I'm done."

The eight-year-old whined a bit, tugging at Dick's sweatshirt sleeve in an attempt to be all the more annoying and to get his way. "Say something about me!"

"No."

"Say something about _me_."

Dick jerked his arm away. "Pe-o ureche intra si pe alta iese."

Jason was thinking to himself as Tim bothered Dick to say more in Romanian. He lifted his head and snapped his fingers together, as if remembering something important. "What's that one thing you use to always say? When we were little, you'd always say one thing that bothered the shit out of me. Ya' said that your mom told you it all the time or something, don't know why – didn't like it when you said it though."

At this an unconscious smile came to Dick's lips, as if remembering something long forgotten, something that had been waiting to be recalled. "Bine faci, bine gasesti."

"What are you three doing?" Bruce entered the room, causing all of the boys to jerk around – surprised to find their guardian there. They hadn't heard him, hadn't expected him. "Bine faci, bine gasesti? It's been a few years since I've heard that around the house." The man smiled as Tim ran in his direction.

"You're home late today!" The boy pulled on his mentor's arm, leaning back. "Di-Dick was speaking in circus language. He – he." Tim started to laugh at the thought. "He asked where the toilet was – _in our own house_!"

"Sounds like fun." Bruce said, though it didn't sound at all like fun. He smiled anyhow, happy to finally be home – strange. He hadn't meant to be at the office till so late, but some nights it was inevitable. Alfred would probably make him feel guilty too, for not being home to spend time with the boys. The butler did that for some reason – if Bruce went a day without spending much time at home, Alfred would lay on the guilt. "Isn't it getting late?"

Tim considered the question. "No."

"I think it is - liar." The billionaire heaved up the eight-year-old, tossing him over his shoulder and walking towards the kitchen. "You can escort me to find Alfred, so we can talk him down from giving me a lecture."

"'Cause you're laaate." Tim sang, giggling in-between words. "When you're late, you pay!"

"Right, right, right. Is there something you can say in Romanian about such things, Dick?" Bruce smiled at his eldest, but didn't get a kind response. Rather, Dick exhaled and looked away, slightly shaking his head. _OK_, apparently Dick was ticked about something or other. First things first, find Alfred and make peace. "To the kitchen."

"The kitchen!" Tim replied. "Bum-ba-_dum_-ba-_dum_."

Jason watched as the two left and slowly turned to look at his older brother. "Something the matter?"

"No – why?"

"You seem pissed at Dad's'all. What'd he do?" Jason watched as Dick started to walk up the stairs, but didn't allow for that to bother him. He simply lagged behind. "Is it because he caught you talkin' Romanian? You embarrassed or something?"

"No, it's just … don't you notice?" Dick stalled for a moment, slowly looking at his brother and then feeling himself relax slightly, happy that Jason was listening. "Well, it's just he's all pissy lately, like he hates being here or something, you know? And so he goes to work and when he comes home -- he's all _happy_ again. I dunno. Some – sometimes I just get the impression that he doesn't like being home is all."

Jason nodded, thinking about it. "Yeah, I know what you mean."

"And, well, he's _always_ blaming me for everything. It's like – even if I didn't do something I get in trouble. Like, with the jeans, he was all shitty 'cause I was asking you about them."

At this Jason took in a deep breath. He could easily see why Bruce had gotten upset over the yelling that went on that morning. "Well, yeah – we were sort of fighting."

"Yeah, but _I'm _the one who got yelled at for both of us. It's never you and me, or Tim and me – it's always just _me_. Then he comes home tonight and is all sarcastic about me talking in Romanian. Just pisses me off sometimes."

Jason nodded. "I don't think he was being sarcastic, Dick, just think he was messing around with us. I mean, he was in a good mood, just how he acts, you know?"

"I know."

"But you're right, he can be a real … give me a word we can use here. I know you know some dirty words if you get mad enough – I've taught you well." Jason chased after his brother up the stairs, laughing a bit. "Say it – say it! Come on, angel child, say the word!"

"Bastard."

"Bastard, ok, ok, it's a start. I like it."

Dick smiled at his brother.

"He's just stressed is all, you know that."

"Yeah, well, … I'm just pissed off is all." Dick smiled a bit, finding it funny that all odds between him and Jason had been forgotten. He shook his head, wondering how things like that happened – how one minute he'd hate his brother, and the next they'd be talking like nothing ever happened. There was no apology, no forgiveness, just … something else. He didn't mind, happy to be able to complain to someone, he smiled a bit more. "You want to do my Calc for me – it could be your good deed of the day?"

Jason turned towards his own room. "Yeah, no."

"Bine faci, bine gasesti, Jay-Jay."

"Yeah, still hate it when you say it."

Dick just laughed, going into his room and preparing for the homework that lay waiting.

* * *

"If he does return then I pity him, for Badger will be ready and waiting, and so will I. And so should you be. Badger may forgive him as you say, but not too easily, I hope!' 'He'll come back, and we'll be glad when he does,' said Mole finally. 'Hmmph!' said the Water Rat, and that was the last thing either of them said before sleep finally overtook both them, and the fire died, and they fell into the deepest, kindest, most blissful of slumbering, which last all the longer that they had been through so much, and needed time to rest and recuperate, just as wise Badger had guessed they would." Bruce closed the book and rested his chin on top of Tim's head, looking at the pages of the _Willows in the Winter_. He could feel his son's breathing was very regular, and knew perfectly well that the eight-year-old had fallen asleep.

Jason was lying beside the man, under the covers of Tim's bed, sound asleep in his Gotham Knights jersey, and flannel pajama pants. His mouth was slightly open, due to his stuffy nose from spending so much time outside in the cold weather that day. His time up on the roof smoking, followed by immediate showers, didn't do much to help ward off a runny nose.

Bruce looked at the 15-year-old with a happy sort of smile. He was always glad when Jason would casually walk into Tim's room in the middle of the usual bedtime story. Though, the teenager was too tough, too proud to admit to that he enjoyed hearing the story, listening to it.

Slowly moving Tim off his lap, Bruce pulled back the covers and helped the slightly conscious child get under them. He flipped off the lights to the room, leaving the two sleeping boys alone. Dick's light was still on and the man pushed the door open, peering inside to find his eldest studying a page of his Calculus book. "How goes the studying?"

Dick lifted his head and shrugged. "Fine, tiresome, I hate Calc – and I hate all these impossible problems."

"Yeah, I hated Calc too, hated it with a passion." Bruce walked towards the boy's bed and peered down at the book. "At least you work hard; you always work hard at it."

"I don't have much of a choice. If I didn't work hard I'd fail."

Bruce ruffled Dick's hair and turned away. "See you in the morning."

"…Night."

* * *

"_Don't you ever think of anyone other than yourself? That bitch and I didn't give birth to a shit like you and expect nothin!"_

"_I j-just can't do it." _

"_You couldn't do it? What kind of fuckin' answer is that, shit for brains?"_

"_You're hurting me!"_

"_Here's how it is. You either do it or you can get my boot in yer ass and then you'll do in anyhow. We need that money, and that's a shit lot of money, so get to it! Get Jason!"_

Jason's eyelids opened in an instant.

He took in a deep breath, making a gasping noise, at the realization he was home – not there. That it had just been another dream, or nightmare of lack of better words. The teenager slowly sat up, only to find pressure on his arm. The teenager wasn't completely shocked to discover Tim sprawled across the bed, with part of his body on Jason's arm. "Fell asleep here?"

Tim didn't make any movement, completely dead to the world and his surroundings, locked in a pleasant sleep. He was impossible to wake up, and just as impossible to get to sleep – something that Jason found more than a little annoying in many cases.

Jason shoved the eight-year-old away from him and slowly stood, unhappy to see the hour. He hadn't meant to fall asleep in Tim's room, it just happened. Wobbling towards the door in a partial sleep-walk, the boy made his way down the hall back towards his room. He was opening the door when he heard a loud _bang_, sounding off from Dick's room.

This caught the fifteen-year-old's attention, and pried him all the more awake. He stumbled a bit, but managed to run to his older brother's room and toss open the door, flipping on the light and looking around.

"Dick?"

"What are you _doing_? Turn off the light!" Dick was sitting on the floor, rubbing his eye with a foul look across his face. He didn't enjoy the bright light burning its way into existence, and into his eyes. "_JASON_!"

"Gee, gee – it's off." Jason flipped the switch and winced, waiting to hear if Dick's loud words had woken anyone.

Nope.

"What was that loud noise?" The teenager asked slowly, and then realization slowly set in. He pulled his lips back and gave a small chuckle. "Didja' fall outta' your bed or something, Dickie?"

Obviously in no mood to play games, or joke around, Dick heaved himself up and simply rolled into bed. His covers were askew, so he simply grabbed his sheet and wrapped it best he could around him. "Go 'way."

Jason smirked at the response. "Whatever. Bad dream or something?"

Dick gave no proper response, but rather lay in silence, doing his best to fall back asleep and ignore to pain in his upper arm. It was bad enough falling out of bed, being bombarded with bright lights, but now Jason was probably going to make some stupid comment about it. Dick did his best not to move, figuring if he didn't make any motions or make eye contact, that maybe (just maybe) Jason would go away.

No such luck.

Dick felt his bed shift a bit as Jason took a seat on the edge. Turning to his back, Dick glanced with a heavy glare towards his younger brother. "What do you want?"

"Nothin'."

"It's _one _in the _morning_. We have school tomorrow – just go to _bed_." Dick sat up and started to collect his blankets back, feeling a little bit chilled. "Why are you awake anyhow?"

"I dunno – just woke up and stuff." Jason appeared to be in deep thought, head lowered as he stared into nothing. "You … do you ever have dreams that sort of suck?"

Dick flopped back down on his bed and gave a yawn. "Jason – what's your problem?"

"Nothing, just thinking out loud and shit. You know? Wondering why you fell out of the bed." At this the teenager lifted his head and smiled once more in his older brother's direction. "You had a bad dream and fell out of your bed, I know what happened."

Not near as enthusiastic about the situation, and miles away from being as awake, Dick simply gave a small growl. It didn't do much, but it was all he could muster. Sleep was starting to fill his mind, and slowly he began to float away out of consciousness.

…

"I mean, do you ever have dreams about when your parents died?"

Once more, Dick was awake – thought this time a little more pissed about the situation. He didn't want to talk about his parents, not right now – not when he was _trying_ to fall asleep. Thinking about how his mom and dad died wouldn't help _anything_. "What do you _want_?"

Jason shook his head, falling back and lying beside Dick as he stared up at the ceiling. He didn't want to tell his older brother what he had dreamed about, it wasn't something he did. It wasn't his _style_. Besides, he didn't want Dick to know about it – not that. Making sure to keep quiet, Jason waited until Dick's breathing became regular, peaceful.

Good, now Dick couldn't kick him out.

Jason pulled the covers over him and felt his body trembling for no apparent reason. "Fuck you, Stephen Todd. _Fuck._ _You_."

_To be continued …_

**Robin7459:** Thanks for the review – I'm glad you're enjoying it. I've always wanted to write a fanfiction about this subject, just never got the inspiration to do it. I suppose I'm really bored, or really inspired, I can't tell you which one! Haha. Thanks again, and I'm really glad the last chapter was read-able, considering all the grammar mistakes. Oops.

**Christy S: **Yeah, I agree – bickering between Dick and Jason rocks! Well, sometimes, not always, but most of the time. It's just fun to write. I'm glad you reviewed, lol – and happier that you enjoy it.

**Kristen Bays:** Yeah, it's awesome you caught that about Tim. I know he's the smartest of the Robin's, but for some reason I've reversed that. I dunno why, I suppose 'cause it's fun to write about! Haha, what a reason. It was a lot worse when I started out, he was _really_ slow, but I felt bad for him. XD Thanks so much for the review!

**CatgirlII: **Thanks so much, glad you're enjoying it still (even if the last chappie was sort of dead).


	4. Chapter 4

**Authors Note: **Oops, Jason's dad's name is Willis – not Stephen! I don't know where I got Stephen from. Hmm. My Batman knowledge is faltering!

"I close my eyes when it gets to sad, I think thoughts that I know that are bad. Close my eyes and I count to ten, hope it's over when I open them. I want the things that I had before, like a Star Wars poster on my bedroom door. I wish I could count to ten – make everything be wonderful again. I close my eyes when I go to bed at night, dream of adventures that can make me smile. I feel better when I hear you say that everything is wonderful now. I go to school and run and play. I tell the kids that it's all ok. I have to laugh so my friends won't know that when the bell rings that I don't wanna go. Home to my room, where I close my eyes. I make believe that I have a new life. I do believe you when you say that everything'll be wonderful some day."

Wonderful **Everclear**

_**You Do Good, You Find Good**_

**By: **The BatThing

**Chapter Four:**

The constant and drilling buzzing seemed to echo inside Dick's head as he drifted out of sleep. Reality sunk in, and the teenage boy gave a hefty groan for what it was worth. Morning _wasn't_ his thing.

Rolling out of bed, Dick hit the alarm, more than thankful to hear its siren stop. And then, without any more time to waste, he made his way into the bathroom – ready to fall into his usual morning routine. Shower, breakfast, teeth, and then school – it was a pattern he was growing tired of, school sucked.

The shower woke him up, got him thinking and going, and a in a bit more pleasant of mood. He made his way back into his room and was a bit surprised to find Jason sprawled across his bed, half in the covers, and half out of them. "Did you _sleep_ in here?"

Jason slowly stirred, turning a bit at the sound of his older brother's voice. "Mmm."

"What the hell?" Dick started to get into his school clothes, all the while, glaring a bit at Jason. He wasn't so much mad as confused. It was more than a little random that Jason spent the night in his room. This was _Jason_, the big bad Jason. The last time the two of them had slept together was when Dick had heard a scary story from Lee Gilliom at school. He told it to Jason, and the two could barely sleep that night. That was about five years ago now. "W-what are you doing in, in here?"

Jason ignored the question, unwilling to move from his comfortable position on the bed.

Dick stumbled a bit as he pulled his shirt over his head. "What's wrong? Bad dream? _Nightmare_?"

"No, you asked me to sleep in here." Jason muttered into the pillows. "You came in _tears_."

There was a moment of silence, and then Dick scoffed. "Yeah right, you came in my room last night and started talking to _me_."

"That's 'cause you fell out of the bed and woke me up."

"I didn't _fall_ out of the bed."

"Yeah you did."

"No I didn't."

"Yeah you did."

"No, I didn't."

"Yeah you did."

"Go to your _own_ room, smart-ass." Dick growled as he collected his books and shoved them into his backpack. "You're gonna' be late for school if you don't get up soon anyhow. It's almost seven twenty, you do realize?"

Jason didn't make any movement to get out of bed. Rather he laid perfectly still, more then willing to fall back asleep. Seeing this, Dick smirked and moved towards his computer. He silently scrolled through his music, figuring that if Jason didn't want to get up – fine. So long as Dick could play _his_ music.

"_Wicki-wild-wild, wicki-wicki-wild, wicki-wild_."

Jason sat up with a start at the sound of the music coming in through the speakers. He took in a deep breath of surprise, recognizing the tune with great ease. _He knew that song_.

"_Wicki-wicki-wild-wild-west_. _Jim West, desperado, rough rider, no you don't want nada, none of this, six-gunnin' this, brother runnin' this buffalo soldier, look it's like I told ya_."

Dick nodded as Jason glared at him, but rather than bow to his younger brother's wishes, he only furthered the annoyance by singing along with the music. "Any damsel that's in distress be outta' that dress when she meet Jim West. Rough neck, so go check the law and abide, watch your step or flex and get a hole in your side. Swallow your pride. Don't let your lip react. You don't wanna' see my hand where my hip be at. With Artemis, from the start of this, runnin the game. James West, tamin' the West, so remember the name!"

Jason threw a pillow in his older brother's direction. "STOP IT!"

"Now who you gonna' call? Not the G.B's. Now who you gonna' call? J Dub and A.G."

"You realize that if your 'friends' at school knew about your bad habit of memorizing all of the old Will Smith songs, that you'd have _no_ friends. They'd laugh at you." Jason pushed away the covers, putting his hands to his ears as he moved for the door.

"Now, now, now, now once upon a time in the west, mad man lost his damn mind in the West. Loveless, kidnap a dime, nuttin' less. Now I must, put his behind to the test." Dick laughed as he watched the door slam, smiling more to himself then anything. He lifted his hand, forming his fingers into the shape of a gun, and blew the imaginary smoke away, not feeling the least bit dumb. "Then through the shadows, in the saddle, ready for battle. Bring all your boys in, here come the poison. Behind my back, all that riffin' ya' did - front and center, NOW WHERE YOUR LIP AT KID?"

"SHUT UP!" Jason yelled from his own room.

Dick just laughed as he continued to prepare for school.

* * *

It was impossible not to space out at a time like this. After all, it _was_ the last class of the day, so who could really hold it against him? In all fairness, it was perfectly understandable … well, at least to him it was. Jason Todd faded in and out of listening to what his teacher was saying, giving the occasional nod of agreement, or smile to show he was – in fact – still paying perfectly good attention.

Haha. Suckers.

Who cared about the imperfect Spanish endings? Aba, Abas, Abunchofshit. Jason glanced over to see if he was the only one finding this completely irrelevant, and completely a waste of time.

Ok, so maybe he was.

But, in all fairness, this _was_ the class of the smart kids. It was like, the kids that _almost _made it into Advanced Placement.

"Troubles paying attention, Mr. Todd?"

Jason froze as all the kids he had been staring at turned to look at him curiously. Oh great, the one moment he looked away '_Senor_' Ortega caught him. The teenager slowly turned, smiling at his teacher. "Just a little."

"Then you might discover you'll have troubles completing the test next week." Mr. Ortega responded. He didn't like the smart-ass teenager. Even if he was Dick Grayson's brother, even it he was Bruce Wayne's kid – it was long past mattering. Jason was, in short - a _prick_. "Is there something we can do to get and keep your attention, Mr. Todd?"

"Yeah – if you let class out early, Senor Ortega."

A few kids chuckled, but the others gave looks of worry. They were use to this sort of behavior from Jason, and knew perfectly well that his stupidity would put their teacher in a foul mood for the rest of the class. Sure, Jason was humorous, but there were lines, and Jason crossed them without a care.

"You know what, I'm feeling generous, Mr. Todd." The man answered.

Jason sat up a bit more, surprised to hear this. His eyes got a bit wider at the words, unable to believe what he was hearing! "You are?"

"I am. I am. I'm feeling so generous that I'm going to write you a pass out of class. Don't you think I'm generous?" The man started to write something down on a sheet of paper, smiling as he did so. "Hmm? Mr. Todd?"

"That depends. Does this pass, by chance, send me to the office?" Jason put his chin in his hands, smirking up at the teacher. He felt a bit foolish to have thought that he was going to get out of class that easily. "'Cause if it does, then I'm going to have to go with 'not so much', concerning your generosity today -- Sir."

The teacher handed the boy the pass with a glare. "Maybe another day then, hmm? I'm sure I'll see you next week, Mr. Todd. Have a good weekend."

Jason drew up his backpack and took the pass. "Doubt it."

* * *

Tim pulled away from Shane Kent, glaring as his classmate patronized him as usual. If he could get up the courage to tell the bully off, he would. But Tim didn't have the guts to say anything. The thought of talking seemed impossible at the moment. It seemed far, far away. All the eight-year-old could do was make sure to keep his distance from the group of boys that were laughing at him.

"Come on, Tim, I'll give you my Snake Guts playing cards if you let us write it on your arm, _please_!" Devin held the sharpie. "It'll be funny, everyone will laugh. You'll see."

Tim shook his head, holding his arms close to his body. He looked around the playground and wished like anything that recess were over so he could go back in the classroom. At least there the teacher would be there to protect him, seeing as he couldn't do it himself.

If only he could be _home_.

"You're eight, right?" Shane questioned as he bounced up and down in a rhythmic manner. "So, why can't you read? My sister's eight, and she can read. I'm six, and I know how to spell a _bunch_ of words. What can _you_ spell? … Hey, do you still wet the bed?"

The group of boys snickered at the question.

Tim simply shook his head, blushing at the suggestion. He felt his insides shrink at the thought. In all truth, he _hadn't_ wet the bed in over a month. So that was good enough – right? Well, it didn't matter – just so long as Shane and Devin didn't think he still wet the bed, he was good.

"If you let us write on your arm, then we'll give you some cookies or something, ok? Come on Tim, it'll be funny! I bet Anna-Marie would think it's cool." Shane pointed to a piggy-tailed brunette swinging. "I bet she might _talk_ to you."

"Y-you write d-d-dumb things." Tim managed, clutching his arm close.

"No we don't – we write funny things." Devin defended.

Tim felt something in him soar. He could _prove_ that he could read by showing that he knew what they wrote on him the last time. That would show them! Maybe they'd leave him alone? "Then why'd you write _Christmas_ last time?!"

There was a collective pause, and then the boys started to laugh.

"Christmas? We didn't write Christmas!"

"Y-yes you did. On my tummy." Tim felt himself turning red. "I read it, even though it was upside down, I read it."

"He doesn't know what we wrote." Shane said loudly to his friends, smiling. "He's a dummy."

Tim went a bit redder at these words.

"We wrote retard on your tummy. R-E-T-A-R-D. Do you know what a retard is?" Devin asked. "It's someone who is eight and can't pass the first grade! I heard you took kindergarten twice too."

Tim balled up his fist, deciding that he'd had enough. More and more people were watching now. Jason had taught him how to punch, so why shouldn't he defend himself? Stupid Shane, stupid Devin. The boy drew back his arm and then hit Devin right in the face. Perhaps it wasn't exactly how Jason had shown him how to do it, but it worked.

Devin fell to the ground, landing on his butt, looking about ready to cry.

And he did cry.

Shane watched in silence, confused at what to do now. He stared at his friend on the ground, and then slowly at Tim. "You're gonna' get in trouble with the teacher."

"TIMOTHY!" Mrs. Barnes was running towards the three boys, pushing past the children who stood watching. "What happened? Did you _hit_ Devin?"

"He huh-h-hit me!" Devin sobbed, holding a hand over his cheek where his skin was red and splotchy. "He hit me!"

The teacher helped the six-year to his feet with a look of confusion in Tim's direction. The boy _never_ did much of anything besides look lost, and this sort of behavior was out of the blue. "Why did you hit Devin, Timmy?"

Tim said nothing, his head bowed as he stared at his feet.

"Well, let's get you to the nurse's, come on. Timmy, you come too, dear." Mrs. Barnes escorted a limping Devin back towards the school building, and Tim trailed behind, bright red from everyone watching him.

* * *

Dick Grayson was more than happy to flop down on the overstuffed that afternoon. School had been nothing special, another day – replica to all the others. Nothing interesting happened, nothing awesome. So when Alfred asked, he told him. "Nothing."

"Not a thing?" Alfred questioned, with a doubtful tone in his voice. He didn't smile, but there was something about the way he spoke that made it obvious he found the response amusing. The butler had driven the three home from school, and like usual, he didn't get much information from them. Though, today there was a good reason for silence. Jason had gotten in trouble at school, and Tim had thrown a punch and _blamed_ Jason for showing him how. "How very depressing a life you live."

The teenager just sighed, dropping his head a bit and looking at the elder gentleman. He gave a small smile and nodded in agreement. "How 'bout you?"

Jason fell gracefully onto the couch with a groan, placing hand to his head. "My day sucked."

"I meant Alfred, not you."

"It was fine, Master Richard, I got all the work done I wanted to, a good day." The butler started for the kitchen, considering telling Jason he should probably start his homework, but refrained from doing so. After all, the teenager _had _truly had his fill of stress that day. Alfred could understand that, so he cut some slack.

Tim didn't bother to take a seat. He watched as Alfred walked out of the room and held his breath. It was only a matter of time till Jason let him have it. After all, Tim _had_ blamed him. He knew his older brother well enough to know he should tread lightly for a few hours till it was forgotten enough. He lingered for a few moments, then gave a little hop and dashed for the stairs, deciding to go change clothes and just go outside.

It was more fun outside.

Dick and Jason didn't bother to lift their heads at the sudden movement Tim made. They remained slouched in an unattractive manner and didn't think anything of it. For a few moments there was only silence as they faded out of their school mode.

"So what'dya do to the teacher?" Dick finally questioned, turning his head just barely to look at Jason. "You told Alfred you just talked back, but figures that's not _all_ you did."

"It is all I did."

Dick just stared.

Jason stared right back.

"Well, I'm sure I'll hear the whole story in a few days."

"I don't care." Jason gave a lazy yawn and rolled over, showing Dick his back. "What are you doing this weekend?"

"Why? You wanna' hang out? Is that it?" Dick gave a small laugh, finding himself funny. He was quick to fall silent though. "Chances are you'll be at home doing nothing, am I right?"

Jason grunted, trying to shrug his shoulders but didn't manage. He rolled right back to his original position so he could better look at Dick. With a shake of his head he made a face. "I need someone to take me to Crime Alley – figured I'd catch up with some ol'friends or something."

"Or something." Dick said. "Dad doesn't like you going there as is, and you already went just a few weeks ago. Who you meeting this time?"

It was hard not to get upset at what Dick was saying. There was some truth to it, but it wasn't like Bruce had said no already. Why get mad when he didn't know the answer. … Because he was Jason, that's why. True, he wasn't going to visit any 'old friends', but he had made a deal with Eric Williams that'd he'd get him some stuff before next weekend, and if he did it meant _more money_. Not that Jason was poor, but hey – it was more money! The teenager knew just how important that was. "Bruce can't stop me from going to visit _my_ old home."

"I think '_Bruce'_ can." Dick mocked. "What do you care anyhow? I thought you said you didn't like to visit? You said you only went because you felt obligated. Just tell them that you _can't_ go, they can't get mad at you for that. It's not like you won't go, you can't!"

Jason thought about it for a little while as Dick flipped on the television. He clicked his fingers together and gave a little grin at his brother. "How much you want?"

"What?"

"Come on, Dick, just consider it! Let's say you go hang out with your friends this weekend, ok? Say you take me along with you, like a nice brother would, ok? And, well, we can tell Dad that it's just us two hanging out. You can drop me off at the Alley and then go hang with your friends. I don't care how long I have to wait, I won't complain." Jason leaned forward on the edge of his chair with a smile. "Come on, _please_."

"Hm-um." Dick refused.

"Twenty dollars, Dick!"

The teenager glanced away from the television, slightly interested in the offer now. "Why would you pay to go to the Alley? And why would you pay _that_ much to go? What's happening this weekend down there? An old girlfriend call you?"

Jason glared at the comment. "No."

"Then what?"

"None of your business is what." Jason sighed, sitting up and facing Dick. "Come on, Dick – I don't bother you when you hang out with _your _friends. I don't ask questions. Dad can be … really weird … about me hanging out with my old friends. I don't blame him or anything, but they're still my friends."

It took a lot for Dick not to roll his eyes. "I don't buy that. You said you don't like going to Crime Alley, so what's so important now?"

Giving it a moment to think on, Jason slowly shook his head. "It's like this. Dad can be really … well, peculiar about it, right? So when I tell him that I don't like to go then he doesn't mind me going as much. You know how it is, he thinks I'm doing it out of the goodness of my heart."

"And you don't have a heart."

Jason glared.

Dick gave a smile. "Fine, even if I don't believe you, I'll take your twenty. _You _get to tell Dad though."

"BUT!" Jason lowered his voice instantly, glancing around. "But he _likes_ you better. If you ask he'll be twice as likely to say its ok, and you know it."

"He doesn't like me better."

"He thinks your more responsible, and you know it. 'Sides, I'm going to be in trouble as it is with Tim ratting me out and shit." Jason hated to beg. "Dick, _please_!"

"Well…"

"_Please_!"

Dick made a face. "Fine, fine – but you owe me."

* * *

It was four thirty when Tim walked into Dick's room without knocking. The teenager studying on his bed looked up and sighed in annoyance at the sight of his younger brother. "Try again, Tim."

"Huh? Oh." Tim stepped back, smiling a little, closed the door, and knocked.

"Come in." Dick said in a bored tone. He watched as the door burst open and Tim entered once more, looking excited. "What do you want?"

"Well, I'm done with my homework and stuff, and my school called. Alfred said that I don't have to go to school tomorrow! He said that I'm … suspended."

Dick dropped his pencil, looking at Tim with a bit of surprise. "Tim, you do know that's _not_ a good thing. Dad's going to kick your butt when he finds out about that. You know what happens when Jason gets suspended, Dad gets _real_ mad. If I were you, I'd start to worry."

Tim's smile faded. "You mean that I'm in trouble?"

"Well, yeah."

"But Jason taught me how to throw the punch!" Tim exclaimed, hurrying to where Dick was sprawled out on the bed. He began to tap his older brother's arm in a repetitive motion as he spoke. "It's not _my fault_ anyhow! I didn't do anything wrong!"

Dick pulled away, not enjoying being abused like he was. He gave Tim a careful look and then shook his head. "Dad'll probably chew Jays out, but you're the one who threw the punch. You shouldn't blame Jason so much. It _was_ you."

The boy began to whimper, tears starting to form in his eyes at the realization that he might not have a very happy night now. "Buh-but Devin and Shane deserved it!"

Oh good, he was crying. Dick sat up and gave a small groan, closing his eyes as Tim began to cry over the matter. "Well, maybe if you tell Dad that they were making fun of you and stuff, maybe he won't be so mad. Ok? So stop crying."

Tim didn't stop crying. He didn't sob, thank goodness, but he was crying.

"If you want to make things better for yourself, then you gotta listen, Tim, ok? I'll tell you some advice." Dick was pleased to see Tim's tears slow down a bit at the chance to get out of trouble. "First off, wait in your room, act like you're really sorry and really sad about the whole thing. I'm sure you'll be able to work up a few tears, knowing you. Then, tell your story, and explain how Shane and Devin are mean to you all the time and that you couldn't help but hit Devin. Then say you're sorry for doing it, and want to apologize."

"But I don't want to apologize to Devin and Shane." Tim whimpered, rubbing a fist at his eye.

"Well, Dad'll make you either way. So if you offer, it'll just make him go easier on you, ok?" Dick gave a smile at this little brother. "You should go to your room. Dad'll be home soon anyhow."

"You don't know that."

"Well, Alfred got mad at him for being late last night, so he'll _probably_ come home on time tonight." Dick checked his clock. "Yeah, I'd wait in your room."

"Dickie?"

"What?"

"Will you talk to him before he yells at me? You're good at talking to dad … please?"

What was it with Jason and Tim? Favors, favors! Dick gave a small nod though, unable to say no. Tim didn't usually get in trouble, and besides – he _did_ feel a bit bad for his brother. "I'll try."

* * *

Bruce did get home shortly after Tim went into his room. He was greeted at the door by Alfred who wasn't quick to explain all the events that had taken place that day. Rather, he used as much tact as he could.

"How was work?"

"The same as it always is, meetings and more meetings." Bruce answered, as he allowed Alfred to take his jacket. He never liked that the butler insisted to hang up his own jacket, but oh well – so be it. "How was yours?"

"…Good. A Miss. Patricia called for you, the number is on your desk in your study."

"Oh, thanks." Bruce could tell there was more Alfred was going to say, seeing as the butler was staring right at him and not moving. "And?"

Alfred gave a polite smile in response. "Master Timothy had some … troubles at his school today." And the story was let out, Alfred explained the whole ordeal, and then explained that Jason's school called also. In the end he could see that Bruce wasn't taking the news well.

"Jason taught Tim how to throw a punch?"

"I believe if you ask Master Jason and Master Timothy, you might find a reason."

"When Jason punches kids at his school he rarely has a good reason for it." Bruce growled, wishing that he could somehow force Jason to act reasonable. It was so hard to remember that Jason couldn't always help what he did, especially considering that the teenager had been at the Manor for so many years now. "Thank you Alfred, I'll talk to them."

"Hi Bruce." Dick was coming down the stairs, looking rather innocent. "How was work."

"…Fine."

A nod and a smile. "That's good. I guess you heard about Tim, right? Well, I just thought you should know that it really isn't his fault. I mean, it is, but he's been having a lot of trouble at school. The kids are mean to him and well … you can't blame him for trying to put a stop to it, can you?"

Bruce quirked an eyebrow at the boy's sudden explanation. "I suppose Tim talked you into this?"

"Not really."

"Well, I appreciate what you're trying to do for Timothy, Dick. It's … very noble." Bruce wasn't sure what else to say. He moved past Dick and headed up the stairs. "But Tim needs to learn to talk for himself."

"…sure."

_To be continued …_


	5. Chapter 5

"To the outside world, we all grow old, but not to brothers and sisters. We know each other as we always were. We know each other's hearts. We share private family jokes. We remember family feuds and secrets, family grief's and joys. We live outside the touch of time."

_Clara_ _Ortega_

_**You Do Good, You Find Good**_

**By: **The BatThing

**Chapter Five:**

"Jason."

"Dad."

"Don't start right now, kid." Bruce growled. He had gone straight to the teenager's room and already he could see that Jason wasn't in the mood to repent. Taking on a glare, the billionaire motioned over his shoulder with his thumb, and raised his eyebrows. "Tim punched a classmate today, but I suspect you know about that. Don't you?"

"I suppose I do." Jason answered curtly, pulling at his comforter as he sat on his bed, books spread out in front of him. He _had_ been studying for his Math test tomorrow. He was failing the class, and progress reports were going to be sent out in a few weeks meaning it was time to start some serious work.

Bruce folded his arms across his chest and stood, looking at the raven-haired boy, wishing that Jason would stop being such a smart-ass. "Where do you get off thinking it's alright to teach Tim that it's _ok_ to hit his classmates? Jason, you _know_ I can't stand when you get into fights. Why the hell did you tell Tim to do that?"

"Oh, so that's how it's going to be? I shouldn't be surprised!"

"Stop being so dramatic."

"Dramatic? Ha!" The teenager crossed his arms right back at his guardian. "You _always _blame me! Well, I wasn't the one who did it. Sure, Tim asked how'ta throw a punch. So I showed him. What the fuck is wrong with that? If you ask me, it's Tim you should be yelling at!"

"This isn't an argument."

"Then what is it?!" Jason demanded, his voice rising in volume the more he talked. "You think I'm just gonna' sit here and let you chew me out for something I didn't do? Think again! You can't do that to me! I_ didn't_ do _anything_ wrong."

"_Jason_."

"Fuck you."

The room became deadly quiet as Bruce forced himself to put his temper in check. He took a few steps forward, coming to the edge of the bed and glaring down at Jason. "You want to tell me that again?"

The teenager scoffed, arching away slowly. "You heard what I said." He didn't sound quiet as confident as before. "I ain't gonna' repeat myself."

Taking a hold of the boy's shirt collar, Bruce pulled the boy towards him a bit roughly, getting the teenagers full and respectful attention. "Don't ever talk to me like that. Ever. Got that? You know _better_. Don't leave your room, we'll talk about this tomorrow when you're calmed down enough."

Jason was silent as he was released, and watched as Bruce walked towards the door. Without giving it a second thought, the frustrated teenager picked up his math book and thrust it in his guardian's direction. It slammed into the wall, a few inches from Bruce, and fell to the floor with a loud and dull thud.

Running his hand across the spot where the book had hit, Bruce turned and faced Jason. "You can pay for the dent you just made." He paused and then studied the boy's face, then picked up the math book. Walking back to Jason, he handed the boy the book. "I'm worried about you, Jason."

Silence.

"Get ready for bed. The only thing I want from you right now is sleep. We'll talk in the morning."

"…I'm sorry." Jason muttered, taking the book with his head hanging. He was still glaring, unsure why. "I didn't mean to throw it."

"Just get ready for bed." Bruce turned and left the room with a headache starting. Jason was so unsteady at times, and it worried him. The fact of the matter was that Bruce completely believed that Jason hadn't meant to throw the book, and that the teenager regretted the action. And as good as that was it didn't stop it from being horrible. Jason needed help.

No longer in the mood to talk to Tim, Bruce simply pushed open the door and found Tim under his computer desk, building what appeared to be a fort of some kind out of pillows and blankets. At the sound of his door being opened, he turned and looked at the billionaire with wide eyes.

"Are you mad at me?"

"Yeah, yeah I am Tim. We're going to talk in the morning. Just get ready for bed." He stared to leave the room when Tim called out, forcing him to stop and turn back around.

"It wasn't my fault."

"We're not talking about it Tim. Get ready for bed, you have ten minutes." And he closed the door, leaving the room and heading towards his own.

* * *

Tim sat up in bed with a start, looking around his dark room and swallowing. He felt a sort of fear etch across his body as memories of his dream surrounded him. The eight-year-old sniffled and squeezed his blankets close to his body, trying to calm himself down. It was working ok until –

_BAM_!

The boy's room turned bright as the lightning flashed through the sky, causing Tim to leap up and race out of his room. He hurried down the hall and came to Dick's bedroom door, entering it as fast as he could and taking a flying leap towards his brother's bed.

"Oouff!" Dick gasped as he felt his little brother's body landed on him. "What are you doing?!"

"Can I sleep with you?" Tim trembled, clawing his way under the covers beside Dick.

"Aren't you a bit old to be scared of thunderstorms?"

Tim shook his head. "M'not scared of them. I just can't sleep is all."

Dick groaned and shook his head. The last thing he wanted was to have Tim sleeping in _his _bed. What was it with his brothers and this week? They couldn't stay in their own beds, and it was getting irksome. Jason was bad enough, but Tim was ten times the terror. "Don't you still wet the bed?"

"No!"

"Tim, yes you do, remember last week? I woke up to that stupid bed-wetting alarm in your room." Dick pushed his little brother away from him. "Go sleep with Jason if you're scared."

"I only had a little bit of water before bed!" Tim whispered, not leaving, and no where near ready to do so. He clutched Dick's arm as another loud roll of thunder sounded off, followed closely by the bright light filling the room. Gasping a bit as he spoke, Tim trembled. "I promise I won't, please don't make me leave – I don't want to sleep _alone_."

Dick rolled out of bed and walked towards his door, opening it and starting to head into the hallway.

"Where are you going?" Tim whispered, jumping out of bed and following his older brother with large eyes. "_Please_ don't leave me alone." Another loud bang came from outdoors and Tim leapt up and grabbed Dick around the waist, hugging him tight, hiding his face in his brother's back.

"I'm going to tell Dad. You can sleep in his room if you're so scared."

"No, no, no, no, _no_! I don't want to sleep with him, he's mad, remember? He'll make me go to bed, even though I'm scared. I'll – I'll sleep with Jason."

"Jason won't let you sleep with him. He's still upset about the last time when he woke up soaking wet 'cause of you."

Tim made a face. "That was two years ago though. I don't do that anymore."

"Last week?"

"That was an accident."

The sound of someone getting up could be heard from inside Bruce's room and both boys turned and ran for Dick's room, jumping in the bed and hiding under the covers. Dick wondered how dumb he was acting, but couldn't help it. Tim clung to him as Bruce's door opened and footsteps started towards the room. A bright light flashed on.

"What are you doing so late at night, Richard?" Bruce asked in a gruff and sleepy voice. "It's one in the morning and people are trying to sleep."

The teenager lowered the comforter down and made an apologetic face. "Tim can't sleep. He's scared, and I don't want him in my bed 'cause … you know."

"Tim, come on, let's let Dick sleep." Bruce watched as the boy started to cry and let out a low sigh, wondering if there was something wrong with the eight-year-old. He acted so much younger than he was, in more than a few ways. He cried over anything, still wetted the bed, and still had those annoying habits like sucking his thumb. The doctors had said it could be due to the fact that the boy was so small for his age; he was growing slower than other kids. It wasn't that it happened a lot, but it happened enough. Bruce took the boy into his arms and lifted him up, pulling the covers back over Dick. "Goodnight, Dickie."

"Night." Dick answered.

Bruce carried a softly crying Tim to his room and put the boy down on the bed. "You can sleep in here tonight if you can _stop_ _crying_."

The boy sniffled, but stopped immediately. "I th-thought you were mad at me."

"I'm not mad anymore." Bruce answered as he sat on the edge, beside the child. "You just were wrong in your judgment at school. Hitting your classmates isn't something we do, it's _wrong_. I thought you would have learned that watching Jason."

"Kids made fun of me at school though. They through sticks at me during recess and say I'm a cry-baby. They wrote retard on my tummy too, but Jays washed it away. He also lied. He said it said Christmas, but it didn't."

Bruce smoothed a hand over Tim's hair and frowned. "Did they get in trouble?"

Shaking his head, Tim sighed, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. "The teacher didn't know. I don't like them. They still called me names after school, too. They _always_ call me names. They say that I'll be stuck in first grade forever. I don't want to be in first grade anymore, I _hate_ it." He paused. "They called me a c-cunt. What's a cunt anyways?"

The man felt his heart sink at the realization. "They said that to you?"

"Uh-huh." The boy rubbed his eyes and yawned. "Do I still have to go to school?"

"Yes." Bruce got to his feet and tucked the boy in, feeling his anger rising. "Don't you worry though, you're better than all those kids at that school."

Tim closed his eyes and turned to his side. "What's a _dreg_?"

Bruce slipped under the covers and frowned at the question. "Why?"

"'Cause they said I was one." Tim yawned again, blinking his big blue eyes at his mentor.

"It's nothing, Timmy, just get some sleep." Bruce closed his eyes, deciding that he and Tim's teacher were going to have a long talk about these 'kids' in his son's class. He wasn't going to let something like this go – leave it to rich people to ruin their children.

* * *

"You realize what they meant by that, don't you?" Bruce hissed to Alfred, following the older man across the kitchen with a look of contempt etching across his face. He was dressed and ready for another day at the office, and while he would usually be reading the paper – waiting for breakfast, today he was _venting_. That was for sure. "I really hate rich people; I really, _really _hate rich people."

Alfred gave a disapproving look at this statement and made his way to the oven, where cinnamon biscuits were ready to be taken out. "Not all rich people act like this, Master Bruce – look at you yourself. You cannot blame all for the actions of some."

"Who are you blaming?" Dick entered the kitchen. He walked over to the counter that Bruce was leaning against and hoisted himself on top of it, sitting and looking at the two men. Neither looked pleased. "What?"

"_Gentlemen_ do not eavesdrop, Master Richard – nor do they use countertops for sitting upon." The butler motioned for the boy to get down as he placed the pan atop of the stove.

Dick sighed and slid back down to the floor. "What are you talking about anyhow?"

"None of your business, chum." Bruce answered. "Are Jason and Tim ready yet?"

"They're _getting_ ready." The boy eyed his mentor then shook his head. "Are you taking us to school?"

"Alfred will take you and Jason to school, I'll be taking Tim."

"I thought Tim was suspended today?"

"Does your school allow such a wardrobe?" Alfred chimed, changing the subject as he approached the teenager, brushing off the boy's shirt. "If one would ask my opinion, a stricter dress code should be ordered."

Ducking away, Dick waved his hands about in defense. He gave a lopsided smile at the comment, though was completely serious as he spoke. "I had to wear that uniform when I was little, and I'm not doing it anymore."

The door to the kitchen was pushed open and Tim entered, wearing his school clothes and looking rather sleepy. He looked around at the crowd in the kitchen and seemed surprised. "I thought we weren't allowed in Alfred's kitchen!"

"That is correct – everyone out and at the table." Alfred shooed the four outside, and closed the door behind them, sighing as he returned to preparing breakfast. Sometimes the house seemed fuller than it actually was.

"What were you two talking about in there?" Dick questioned as Bruce took a seat, grabbing the paper and starting to read. The teenager took a seat and looked interested. "And why are you taking Tim to school but not us?"

Tim looked up at this. "You're taking me to school?"

"Yes I am; I want to talk with your teacher." Bruce lowered his paper and looked at Dick. "And I told you that what was said in the kitchen wasn't any of your concern."

"Well, you were all upset." Dick slowly answered, sounding a bit defensive.

"Are you going to tell my teacher about those kids that made fun of me?" Tim asked, leaning forward.

Bruce shut his eyes momentarily and then opened them. "Your teacher and I will talk, yes, but don't worry about it."

Tim looked pleased. "Are you going to beat the kids up?"

"No."

"Could you?"

"No."

"I wish you would."

* * *

Tim was unusually silent as he and Bruce walked down the elementary school's halls. The boy led the two to his classroom and looked up at his mentor. "My teacher's name is Miss. Davison."

"Alright, you can go sit down, Tim. I'll just talk to her and then leave." Bruce answered, glancing around the classroom. A bunch of young faces were staring at him in wonder. He watched as Tim hurried to a seat in the front of the class, nearest to the window. "Miss. Davison."

The young teacher looked confused, but smiled nevertheless. "You must be Tim's father, welcome! I, um, I guess Tim is coming to class today then?"

"I just was wondering if I could speak to you for a few moments … in the hall."

The woman nodded and the two made their way, leaving the class to themselves.

"That's your dad, Tim?" A girl questioned to the boy. "He's tall!"

The boy didn't say anything, just looked out the window. This was nothing unusual. He wouldn't ever talk to his classmates, no matter what the reason, probably a reason he got the mistreatment he did.

"Why is he here, Crybaby?" Michael Smith suddenly asked, leaning forward on his desk and looking at Tim.

Once more, no answer.

There was a quiet whisper. "Is your daddy here because you _told _on us?"

Out in the hall Bruce explained his reason for coming and waited for the answer from the young teacher. It was clear the woman loved children, clear that she enjoyed her job, and clear that she cared about Dick's situation. Though, she didn't have much of a reasoning as to why the kids were acting the way they did.

"Tim is very quiet, Mr. Wayne. He doesn't talk much talk to anyone – and if someone is nice to him, he is usually mean in return. For example one of his classmates gave him a birthday card this year and when asked if he liked it he ripped it up. Well, I told him that was a mean thing to do and he started crying … and apologized. It's a common theme for him. Kids do make fun of him, a lot of the boys, and the girls don't much like him anymore."

"I was never told he treating other students unfairly."

"It's not a common thing, it only happened twice this year – and nothing awful." She sighed and shook her head. "I think it might have to do with the fact that's he's two years older than them. He's no bigger, goodness, I was surprised when I found out it was really eight. Apparently though, the class knows it – and he knows they know. So that might be a reason. Not to mention he's so shy, and well … a bit of a crier."

Bruce sighed. "He does have a problem with that, the doctor actually suggested holding him back another year, but three years seemed a bit much. He's just not ... advanced. He acts like a five-year-old a times."

"Well, I wish I knew what to do to make him participate more."

"Could I, by chance, know the boys who are being so mean to him? I just … I have some people who don't like me and if they're children are being hard on him because of me then I'd like to know."

She bit her lip at the request. "I'll run it by the principal and then mail you a list of the children's names if he says it's ok. I'd just hate to start a fight you see, and I don't know if that sort of thing is allowed – giving out names like that."

"If it gets worse I think I might have to take other steps."

"I wish I could do more to help, Mr. Wayne." She stepped back. "I had better be getting back to my class."

"Thank you for your time, Miss. Davison." And with that he turned and started back down the hall, leaving the class. The woman watched and then swallowed, going back to her class. That man was _intimidating_. She wondered how anyone would have the gull to _hate_ him.

Reentering her class she was surprised to see Tim waiting at the door and the rest of her class watching in silence. "What can I do for you Tim?"

"Where is my dad?"

"Your daddy went home, honey. We just had a little talk and he had to get to work. How about you sit down and we'll get class started?" She took the boy's hand only to have him pull away. He ran out of the room and she gave a little gasp, surprised by the action. It was hard for her to really _like_ the boy. Despite the fact that he was cute, he seemed so rude, never talking and ignoring his classmates when they were simply trying to befriend him. Spoiled rich kids were not her forte. Going into the hall and closing the door behind her she yelled for him. "Timothy!"

This caused the boy's father to turn around, confused. He saw his child running at him and waited. "What are you doing, Tim?"

The eight-year-old was in tears, as he came to his father. "Don't leave me, _please_! Don't leave me!"

It was like dealing with a kid you were going to baby-sit; a kid who cried when their parents left. Miss. Davison walked towards the man with an irked expression. "Timmy, your father is very busy, how about we get back to class now?"

"You're a shit!" Tim snapped at the woman, and then clung tightly to his guardian. "I'm _not_ going back."

"TIMOTHY!" Bruce pulled the boy away and glared down. "You never – _ever _talk like that to anyone, understand? Not _anyone._" The boy started to cry again and it was obvious that Wayne was becoming just as stressed as the teacher. "I apologize. He doesn't even know what he is saying. I'm so sorry."

"It's alright, I've been called worse." She smiled. "How about you just bring him back to class when he's ready to come?"

"Thank you." Bruce watched as she turned and walked away, then faced the sobbing boy and felt his head start to hurt. What was he supposed to do? Tim was … so much _work_. The man felt helpless, wondering what he was doing wrong. Ok, so maybe he did baby Tim – but that _had_ to stop. "Stop crying, Tim. You aren't hurt."

The boy blinked, slowing his tears so he could look at his mentor, and then started to cry again. He lifted his arms up, as if wanting to be held, but was ignored.

"You're too old to be held, it's high time you started to act your age." Bruce answered, refusing to look into his eyes. Why was it that Jason and Dick had been so much easier to resist? Probably because they hadn't been around since they were only three years old. It was hard not to try and keep Tim young. "You need to be in your class, _learning_."

"The kids were being m-mean to me." The boy said with a heart-breaking sob. He was rubbing at his wet eyes. "Can't I go with you? _Please_?"

"No. You need to be in your class. Come on, I'll walk you there." Bruce took the child's hand and sighed as the crying continued. He knelt down, pulling the boy in front of him and frowning. "Either you stop crying or there is going to be trouble at home." It was all he could think of to make the boy behave. And it worked.

Tim's tears slowed and he gripped Bruce's hand as they started towards the classroom. "Am I in trouble?"

"Not yet." The man glanced into the room then lifted the boy up. _Ok, so maybe he wasn't totally ready to let go. _Looking at the boy he sighed. "Chin up, right Tim? Remember what Alfred says?"

A nod came in reply. "Everybody loves a happy face."

"Then let's see you smile."

The boy tried, that much was true. It wasn't much, but it was something. He looked at his guardian and sighed. "Do I have to go back?"

"Yeah, you do." Bruce lowered the boy back down to the ground and then smiled. "You go show them that what they say won't stop you from being _you_."

"What's that mean?"

"It means you don't let others push you around. Like when Jays pushes you around – you don't let that stop you, do you?"

The boy shook his head.

"Well, don't let them stop you either. Off you go."

Tim moved towards the door and glanced back at his guardian then smiled, entering the classroom and leaving Bruce a little bit proud.

_To be continued…_


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Batman or any other DC characters. The song in this chapter is by They Might Be Giants (TMBG). Credit goes where credit is due, so not to me.

_**You Do Good, You Find Good**_

**By: **The BatThing

**Chapter Six:**

Jason was careful as he took a leap, kicking the soccer ball directly towards his older brother. He watched with a partial smirk as the object went sailing through the air, seemingly going towards the goal when – Dick blocked it with his elbow. "Damn it, Dick, can't you ease up a bit? _Shit_!" He tried his best to keep his balance on the trampoline while guarding his side, and his goal.

Trampoline soccer, a game the two had invented _years_ ago, back before high school, back before they could really remember. It was a simple enough game, the only trouble was trying to keep your balance as you protected your goal, or making an advance on the other side. An no matter how careful the two were, someone always ended up bruised, bloodied, sprained, or worse. If Alfred caught them playing the game, well – the two hoped he wouldn't.

"Stop being such a baby, just 'cause you're sucking so bad doesn't give you the right to get mad at me." Dick smiled at Jason, happy with his momentary win. Without a moment to waste, he kicked the ball and watched as Jason flopped around, doing everything in his ability to block the ball. Without wasting another moment, Dick ran at his brother, going for the ball, and trying his best to kick it into the goal side.

"Are you guys – are you guys playing trampoline soccer?" A small voice demanded, causing Jason and Dick to stop their scuffle to look in Tim's direction. He sat Indian style on the gym floor, eating a pudding cup. "I thought that you weren't allowed to play that."

"Says who?" Jason challenged, watching Dick carefully as he spoke. He didn't trust the uncalled pause in the game. There was no telling if his older brother might attempt to steal the ball and shot it into his goal. "Nobody said that."

"Dad and Alfred said so, after Dickie broke his arm two years ago."

Dick sighed. He _hated_ that story with a passion. It had been an accident, a clumsy, stupid mistake that he would never live down. So, yeah, he had misjudged a flip – the one time, and everyone kept talking about it. "We're just kicking the ball around, Tim. We're not playing soccer, ok?"

"Yeah, Tim. Go get us some pudding while you're doing nothing, ok?"

"No. Go get it yourself."

"Come on, we'll let you play with us if you go get some."

Dick was silent, watching Jason try to talk the eight-year-old into the chore. He wouldn't mind if Tim got them a snack, but he wasn't so sure about allowing his little brother into the game. That was a bit far-fetched. He stole a glance at Jason and knew better than to think that the ex-street-kid would uphold the promise. Though, despite himself, he kept quiet.

Tim's eyes lit up with the offer and gave it a few seconds of thought, then nodded. "Well, ok – you promise I can play with you?"

"Yeah, just get some pudding for us. I want chocolate – and not that nasty mixed chocolate and Carmel, ok?" Jason stuck a thumb in Dick's direction. "Get Dick the usual."

"The usual?"

Dick rolled his eyes. "You're an idiot, Jason. Tim, just get me a blueberry jello, ok? We still have those, right?"

"The, uh, the – um – Space Captain Cadet ones we got still."

"I don't care. Thanks, Tim." Dick watched the boy run out of the room with his pudding in hand and then turned to Jason. He saw his brother was distracted and went for the ball – with ease he kicked it into the opposing goal and gave a small yelp of joy.

"UNFAIR! We had a pause in the game."

"No we didn't."

"Yeah, asshole, we did. That doesn't count." Jason kicked the ball in Dick's direction and the game continued just like that, without another argument or word up until Tim returned with the food. Even then they didn't take a break. While eating their pudding and Jello, the two played on, laughing and seemingly having a good time. Tim kept nagging to have a turn, and Jason kept promising blindly that in a little while the younger boy could join the fun – but not right now.

It was about fifteen minutes later, plastic pudding cups on the ground next to their spoons, when something of interest, real interest, happened. Jason was attempting to make a shot into Dick's goal, fancy like – taking the ball between his feet, twisting around and flipping it in. He managed to get in the air, start to turn, and then before anything else could happen he felt his elbow connect with something.

Dick made a small noise of pain and tumbled back, falling awkwardly to the black elastic floor and cupping his hands over his nose. "Ah, shit!"

"Dickie!" Tim panicked, getting to his feet and jumping up and down, frantic like. "I'll get Alfred!"

"NO!" Dick and Jason said together, stopping their little brother from running and getting them into all the more trouble. That was the last thing they needed right now, Alfred to find out what they had been doing.

"Is it broken?" Jason asked cautiously. He watched as Dick removed his hands from his face and was greeted by the color red – flowing down the boy's face. "Shit man, it hurt?"

"I don' think it's broken." Dick managed, running his forearm under his nose, causing the blood to smear all across his face and onto his arm. "I better clean up before Alfred finds me."

"That's gonna bruise."

"I'll tell Alfred and Dad it was something else."

"Like what?" Jason tried to think, but nothing came to mind. He was usual a good liar, but at the moment he drew a blank. "We could say we were playing outside. It could have happened playing soccer outside."

Dick gave it a moment of thought and the nodded. "I'll go tell him now. Throw the ball outside so it looks like we were actually there."

Tim listened in silence at first, but at this his eyes got wide and he shook his head. "If you guys get caught then you'll be in trouble."

"And if Dad or Alfred ask you, then what do you tell them?" Jason snapped.

The eight-year-old glared.

"Come on Jays, just put the ball outside. If they _do_ find out they can't get too mad. It could have happened playing soccer regular. Elbow in the face isn't too uncommon, right?" Dick swiped his nose again and winced. "This hurts. I'm going to tell Alfred."

"I'll bring this outside then."

* * *

Bruce Wayne entered his home that night with his briefcase in hand a soccer ball tucked underneath. He wasn't upset about it, but having to stop his car, get out to get the soccer ball out of the middle of the drive was hardly something he found pleasant. Besides, Alfred had _told_ everyone _not_ to leave stuff where it could be run over.

And hadn't Bruce taken Dick's soccer ball away when Tim had it?

There was a song playing rather loudly, drawing the billionaire's immediate attention to the television, a place where he could almost always find someone. Tim was there tonight, dressed and ready for bed, hair still wet from a bath Alfred had forced on him. To his right Dick was lying, looked as dazed could be. His mouth slightly open, eyes locked with the picture being displayed on the screen – a worm dancing.

"_They call me doctor worm, I'm not a real doctor but I am a real worm. I am an actual worm. I live like a worm. I like to play the drums. I think I'm getting good, but I can handle criticism. I can show you what I know and you can tell me if you think I'm getting better on the drums. I'll leave the front unlocked 'cause I can't hear the doorbell_."

To Jason's credit, he wasn't there. Alfred probably had made sure that the teenager was working on homework or something considering he had gotten into trouble at school and with Bruce the other day.

"_When I get into it I can't tell if you are watching me twirling the stick. When I give the signal my friend Rabbi Bulk will play the solo. Someday somebody else besides me will call me by my stage name. They will call me Dr. Worm._" Tim started right in with the television, joining the song and bouncing up and down in place, irritating Dick obviously so. "_Good morning how are you, I'm doctor worm. I'm interested in things. They call me doctor worm, I'm not a real doctor but I am a real worm. I am an actual worm. I live like a worm._"

"Stop it, Tim, I have a headache from being pummeled in the face. Ok? Stop."

Tim just ignored his older brother and kept right on going. It wasn't till Bruce cleared his throat that the eight-year-old fell silent and stopped moving. Both he and Dick stared at the man, as if confused why he was there.

"What happened, Dick?" Bruce questioned, hearing the comment. "Someone hit you?"

There was a pause as the realization that their guardian was talking settled in. Dick nodded pushing his hair back and sitting up just barely. "Uh, an accident."

"What happened?"

"Jays and I were playing soccer, he jumped and got his elbow in my nose. Nothing big." Dick said, glancing at Tim who looked like he knew some big secret. The eight year old was covering his mouth, eyes wide as he looked at Bruce.

The billionaire put his briefcase on the floor and tossed the soccer ball to the teenager, watching as Dick caught it with ease. "Then that explains why this was in the middle of the drive? You're lucky you still have it."

"This is my favorite part!" Tim exclaimed suddenly, jolting up and pushing into Dick. "Watch, watch, watch!"

Dick didn't even bother to look at the screen, he pushed his little brother away and gave a sigh and put a hand to his nose, wincing. "You're home later than usual … I think Alfred's ticked at you."

The socialite pretended not to hear that. "I've got some news that you boys might find interesting."

"What kind of news?" Tim asked.

"Well, I got a call from Clark today and -."

"Uncle Clark called?!" The youngest shrieked in a voice that made Dick jump about a foot. "Are he and Auntie Lois coming?"

Bruce shuddered at the words, but not from the high pitch tone. He didn't know how the whole 'Uncle' ordeal started, never having endorsed it. In fact, the billionaire was sure that Clark was the reason it caught on as it had. Bruce and the Smallville farmer's son had become … well, not friends – in fact the rich Gotham icon had never really _liked_ Clark. He didn't hate him and he didn't not like him, but he didn't like him, it was hard to explain. They had crossed paths when Clark had come to Gotham for a short while to interview Bruce. It was years ago, when Clark was just starting as a reporter and Bruce was just beginning the process of working for his parent's company. Clark had been nervous, awkward, and Bruce found him annoying almost. But the Daily Planet always sent Clark after that when something happened in Bruce's life.

So, Clark had visited the Manor a few times – and yes, he and Dick had bonded once when Bruce was late coming home from work. The reporter had been waiting to get an interview at his house and Bruce had sort of forgotten till Alfred called and said that there was someone from Daily Planet outside playing baseball with Dick, and that he had been waiting for the past hour.

After that when Clark came for an interview Alfred always invited him over for dinner, and Dick would always have so much fun. Finally Clark managed to worm his way into Bruce's life enough that Dick was calling him 'Uncle Clark', and whenever there was an interview the farm boy didn't just get to come to the house for an interview, he would stay _there_ rather than a hotel. When Jason and Tim came they fell into the routine too – Uncle Clark this, Uncle Clark that, Uncle Clark is coming for Thanksgiving, Christmas presents from Uncle Clark. Dick and Jason even went up to Smallville one week during the summer and stayed with at their 'Uncle's' parent's house for a short vacation. And just like that they had grandparents. Amazing how that sort of thing worked out.

"Why do you call her Auntie?" Dick asked. "She and Uncle Clark aren't even married. They've just dated for a long time."

"She said I could last month when they were visiting."

"But she's not even your aunt."

"Uncle Clark isn't really our Uncle, but we call him it anyways." Tim looked at his father and nodded in affirmation. "When are they coming?"

"Clark isn't coming. He wanted to know if Jason and Dick wanted to go up to Kansas during their Christmas break, just for a few days. Jonathan and Martha have apparently been asking about you guys." Bruce wasn't sure if it was smart to be telling this to Tim, and from the sight of the youngest face he could see that there might be tears coming. "He offered to have you up there too, Tim – but…"

"I WANNA' GO!" Tim yelled. "I _never_ get to go visit Uncle Clark or Grandma or Grandpa Kent! I'm almost nine! I'm almost NINE!"

Dick's attitude perked at this revelation and he smiled brightly. "That's only a few weeks away. We can go right?"

Bruce shrugged. "We'll see how things go."

"Why can't I go?!" Tim screamed loudly, drawing Alfred into the room with a scowl. Tim saw the butler and pointed at Bruce. "Dad's home _late_, Al-Alfred! An-and Dick and Jays were playing trampoline soccer t-today!"

Dick swerved and glared at the eight-year-old. "Yeah, and Tim was eating pudding in the gym."

"So were you!"

"You were first, you tattle tale."

"WHY DO I NOT GET TO GO TO UNCLE CLARK'S?!"

Alfred gave Bruce an expectant look. He just stood there, watching, expecting the billionaire to do something about the situation. Bruce _really_ hated it when he did that. After a long day at the office he got to do this. Alfred simply backed off like nobody's business.

"Tim, we don't know if _anyone's_ going yet. Ok?"

"But if they do get to go, can I go?"

Jason was coming down the stairs, drawn by the noise like Alfred. He looked confused and cocked his head. "Go where?"

"Uncle Clark invited us to go to Kansas for Christmas Break."

"Oh god, no." Jason groaned. "Not me, thanks. I'd rather not go to Dullsville. Why can't he come here instead? There's nothing to do in Kansas other than sit there and talking about sitting there. They have all these old games and do puzzles at night."

That was true, a small factor Dick had forgotten about - as much fun as Uncle Clark was, and as nice as Grandma and Grandpa Kent were, things could get pretty dull. Sure, when Dick and Jason were little it had been fun to visit the country and see all the different things – but now? Well, it was tolerable, but a long stretch. "It'd only be for a few days."

Jason shook his head. "Pass."

"Don't be so hasty, Master Jason." Alfred said. He smiled towards Bruce and gave a nod. "Master Bruce, you do realize that that this is the Christmas rotation year."

_Oh shit_. Bruce had forgotten about that. Every year Alfred would go back to England to visit family for either Christmas or Thanksgiving. He had stayed for Thanksgiving this year, so that meant no Alfred this season. "Well, we can hire people to help out at the Manor. We do every year when you leave. What about it?"

Alfred appeared amused, though tried to hide it. "I talked with Mr. and Mrs. Kent earlier today. They called here and gave a formal invitation."

"Clark called me at the office."

"Not about the boys visiting for a few days, Master Bruce. They called about you and the boys coming for Christmas."

There was a long silence and Jason started to laugh. "Yeah right, Dad in the boonies? I don't _ever_ see that. What would he wear?" The boy shook his head.

Tim on the other hand jumped over, grabbing Bruce's arm and jerking it about as he displayed enough excitement for ten kids. "Can we go? _Please_? Can we? Can we? Can we? Can we? Can we?"

_Oh no_. "Alfred you know I don't do that sort of thing. It'd be awkward and uncomfortable sharing a holiday with another family."

"But it's Grandma and Grandpa Kent!" Tim said.

"Why don't they come here?" Bruce pulled his arm away from the overeager child and looked to Alfred for help. "You can tell them they can come here and we could just do that. We can hire that one guy we got last year, he took care of stuff really well, remember?"

Alfred didn't seem to be agreeing, and Dick was looking somewhat dejected. Tim appeared to be in shock. Jason was the only one who was taking _his _side on this.

"We could go for just Christmas day." Jason said. "Grandma Kent _can_ cook really well. We could just get a hotel, that way we'd have TV and shit."

Ok, so maybe Jason wasn't with Bruce. "_Hey_. No. Cursing."

Jason shrugged.

"You can think about it." And with that, Alfred turned and headed back into the kitchen leaving Bruce to deal with the three kids who were _wanting _to go. Well, he _couldn't_ go. Kansas for Christmas? No thank you, very much.

_To be continued …_


	7. Chapter 7

**Authors Note: **Sorry this took forever, the internet is wacko. If you enjoy this fanfiction you can say a big thanks to Steelelf who sent me a message reminding me that I hadn't posted in forever. So, seriously, thanks steelelf. I didn't re-read this, so it's probably full of strange parts, but hey ... at least it's something? This is my 'fun' fanfiction, so I don't care about mistakes, lol. And if you're a fan of 'Maybe Today' you can blame me for not posting. I've got the chapter written, I just have to send it to my awesome friend (who is helping me out with it - THANKS) E. Nagrom. So, just yell at me because I haven't shown them anything yet. So, E. Nagrom ... I'll send you an Email tomorrow (and thanks for the review on Summer Nights ;-)).

"Hello, goodbye. Two birds hover inside of a hard factory, holding onto recovery. Fly away, repaired and prepared to go on your way. And I know I'm on my own, but you make your way – and I will rise, I will rise if in my mind. And I can see you fly away. I can see the sun upon your face. I can feel your heart and I can hear you cry. And as I fall apart I learn to fly. A dirty bird like me will learn to fly. And everything I love you for remains. Fly above the clouds and the cleansing rains. "

**Carbon Leaf**_Learn to Fly_

_**You Do Good, You Find Good**_

**By: **The BatThing

**Chapter Seven:**

"Auntie Lois!" If there was a noise that caught more attention then the sound of Tim's shriek, Bruce would pay to hear it. He watched as head after head turned, momentarily glancing at the eight-year-old and then turning back to their business, save two figures: Lois Lane and Clark Kent.

"I don't believe how big you've gotten!" Lois didn't seem to mind Tim in the least. She went straight to him, wishing it was a bit easier to pick the little boy up. She could only hold him in an awkward hug for about ten seconds before finding her arms straining. He _had_ gotten bigger. She smiled and glanced over at the others, knowing that they wouldn't show as much affection, but hoping they felt the same. "It's so good to see you all."

Tim wasted no time in grasping her hand and just holding it like they were actually family – because to him, they were. He didn't need any blood bonds, he never had. This, right here, was enough. He loved Bruce, Jason, Dick, and Alfred. They loved Uncle Clark. Tim loved Uncle Clark. Uncle Clark loved Auntie Lois. Tim loved Auntie Lois. There was nothing complicated about it. "Did you bring us treats?"

"Did I bring you treats?" Lois laughed, her words forming an amused question.

"Timothy, you don't ask people for gifts – it's rude. That's unacceptable." Bruce's words were gruff, and who could blame him? He certainly figured that anyone in his position would sound just as mean, if not more. A five hour flight from Gotham to Kansas with three boys under the age of sixteen wasn't exactly a stress-reliever.

Clark smiled as he took a step forward, meeting Tim's eyes. "It is unacceptable, but what's worse is that I'm actually giving into him." The kind reporter pulled out some gum from his pocket and took out a piece. "Can you settle for some gum, Timmy?"

Ignoring Bruce completely, forgetting the lecture, Tim dashed over to Clark with a smile firmly in place. He took the gum and popped it into his mouth without any hesitation. "Thanks Uncle Clark."

"Does Lois get a hug because she's pretty, is that it?"

Tim smiled and shook his head, holding his arms out and allowing Clark to pick him up. It was clear that the boy was probably a bit too big for such a thing, but his 'Uncle' didn't seem to mind. Still holding Tim, he turned to where Jason and Dick stood.

"Hey, if it isn't Dickie and Jay-Jay, how have you two been doing, huh?"

Jason glared, shaking his head and looking around to see if anyone had heard the names called. "It's Jason, Clark."

"I apologize Clark, it's been a long flight – Jason's a bit tired is all." Bruce said. "In fact, we're all a bit tired. The grey weather doesn't really help either."

Clark nodded. He understood, though wondered when Jason decided not to refer to him as 'Uncle Clark'. It was a bit depressing to hear and he wondered if Dick would do the same. "Let me help carry your bags – the car's right down that way." He lowered Tim to the ground and reached out, offering to take one of Dick's suitcases.

The teenager shook his head, smiling and tossing his head in an attempt to get the hair away from his eyes. "I got it, Uncle Clark. Someone offered to carry it for us before, but we didn't need help. I mean, it's not that much luggage, and you know."

"I don't see why we didn't pay that busboy to carry our shit." Jason said, heaving a bag over his shoulder. "Not to act spoiled, 'cause I'm not – but we _always_ get someone to carry our stuff. It's not like you're low on cash or anything." He glanced at Bruce. "Or are you keeping secrets from me?"

"Jason, define secrets, and no – I'm not 'low on cash' as you put it." Bruce answered. "And yes, you are acting spoiled. I'm starting to wonder if you truly are."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence."

"Oh, I'm confident that you can behave better. I'm just not confident that you realize you're being a brat right now. If I hear you cuss _at all_ this week you can bet that carrying your luggage will be the least of your worries."

Jason scowled and hung back enough so he was walking beside his older brother. "What's up his ass?"

"You."

Lois shot her boyfriend a look of worry and shook her head, wondering if this was going to crash and burn before her eyes. Was it just her, or had Bruce's kids gotten a whole lot worse? Tim was all fine and good, well – thus far. It was Dick and Jason she was concerned with. Jason had always been a little punk, but at the same time he had always managed to be cute. Now he was just a nightmare – there was nothing about the way he was acting that was 'cute.' "So do you boys do any sports?"

"Sports are for preps." Jason answered. "Speaking of which, why don't you do sports, Dick?"

"Apparently you can't be in sports if your brother's a future drop out, something about it being in the genes. I tried to explain that you weren't _really_ my biological brother, but they were worried that your general stupidity might rub off on me and affect the team. I couldn't blame them."

Well, at least Dick could hold his own against Jason.

"They all seem to enjoy soccer. Just a few days ago Dick about broke his nose while playing." Bruce answered. He gave the two teenagers a disappointed look. "Though, you could hardly call it soccer, it was more of … what do you call it?"

"Trampoline soccer." Tim answered.

"That sounds like fun." Lois answered as they came to the car and started to get in. "How does it work?"

The drive to the house was mostly talking between Tim, Lois, Clark, and occasionally Dick. Bruce and Jason opted silence, Bruce because he liked it that way and Jason because he figured another word might get him into more trouble than he wanted. They drove down a pot-hole road, past fields - all of which were just empty and barren – the season for green gone with the warm weather. Now there was just grey skies as far as the eyes could see, and as far as those wheat, corn, soy, and barley fields rolled.

Tim leaned into the window, not thinking of the smears his fingers were putting on the glass window. "Dad?"

Bruce, who was sitting in the passenger seat up front, didn't bother to turn around. "What?"

"Why is it so empty here? Do people not like living here? Did everybody die?"

"This is farmland, Tim. It's not a place where you live. It's a place where you grow food. Nobody lives here because it's used for other things."

"Oh."

The drive took about two hours, but finally they arrived to the farm house. Jason was first out of the car, stretching his legs and complaining that it was too cold out here and Tim talked too much. He said that this was the last time he was getting in a car with the younger boy again. Bruce told him to be quiet, which only made the teenager scowl all the more.

"I see you made it!"

"Mr. Kent, it's a pleasure to see you again, sir." Bruce fashioned a smile as an elderly gentlemen came out of the house with a jacket on tight. "Thank you for having us over, the boys have been looking forward to it for so long now. It's nice to get out of the city and into some open spaces."

Dick watched his father converse in such a polite manner, in a bit of awe. It was always strange to see his guardian meet with people who didn't really know him. Everything was so professional.

"Dick, are you going to stand there all weekend or can I get my shit out of the trunk?" Jason snapped.

"Sorry." Dick turned with his brother, digging out their things from the back of the mini-van, wondering where they would all be sleeping in this house.

Everyone said their hellos and shook hands, hugged awkwardly, and other such things with Mr. and Mrs. Kent (or grandma and grandpa Kent). Then they were shown their bedrooms by Martha Kent. "I know it's small, but it's all we have. We have an air-mattress we can blow up for one of you boys, hmm? Then the bunk-beds."

"Dick and I get bunk beds." Jason declared, throwing his suitcase on one of the beds. "Tim, you can sleep on the floor."

"No I'm not."

"You're the littlest, so you gotta' do what I say."

"That's not fair!"

"Jason, we'll decide about the beds later, alright?" Bruce's words ended the small dispute verbally, but for the rest of the short tour Tim and Jason couldn't stop the glares and occasional elbowing that took place. Dick was even getting on edge, ticked that his brothers were being so immature and wishing that he could just go to sleep. He _was_ really tired.

"Clark, honey, could you please get the air-mattress down from the attic for the boys? You know how I hate having to crawl around up there, looking for it, and your father hasn't had time to do so. You know how busy it gets around here." Martha Kent placed her hand on her son's arm and gave a smile that reminded Dick of cinnamon. He found himself staring and looked away.

Clark headed towards the attic, leaving everyone else sort of in an awkward placement. Clark was the mesh that connected everyone. He connected Lois to Bruce's family, and connected Lois and Bruce to his parents. They stood awkwardly till Lois got it in her mind that she might as well try and warm up to her boyfriend's parents – it was her responsibility. "So, Martha, I hope you won't mind me poorly trying to help you out in the kitchen. I'm not very good with that sort of thing, but the way Clark talks – you're a master. I was hoping to maybe try and pick up a few tips."

Martha's smile returned and she pulled Lois into a partial hug. "Honey, I'd _love_ for you to help in the kitchen – no matter how much experience you have. It's just so nice to have you here, all of you!"

It was clear where Clark got his warm personality from.

"Speaking of the kitchen, I did make some roast beef sandwiches for you all. If you don't like roast beef then I've got some peanut butter and jelly. Come on, come on, there's potato salad, pork'n'beans, and chips!" The woman motioned for everyone to head on down the stairs, her husband leading the way. She waited till Bruce passed her and caught his arm with a gentle touch. "I just wanted to tell you how honored we are to have you and your boys here with us for the holidays. I don't know if you realize how much Clark adores you and your children, but … he does. You've done so much for him, I can't even imagine how we'll ever repay you! And now, as if we aren't in enough debt, you come for Christmas."

"Oh, no – this is an honor for us."

"Well, I hope it's not too horrible. You have beautiful boys, and … I just love it when they come. I know Clark still has time, but it's just so sweet to show people pictures of the boys and say that they're like my grandchildren. It's just so wonderful."

"Well, I had nothing to do with that – they just love being here and the company."

"Thank you."

Bruce smiled and followed her down the stairs, wondering if it really was such a big deal. She seemed so sincere, like being called grandma Kent by a stranger's children really was such a great thing. Bruce certainly didn't think so, but then again … he didn't really agree with a lot of people.

* * *

"I want Uncle Clark to help me get ready for bed." Tim announced that night, when Bruce told him to go get ready for bed. It was seven-thirty, hardly late – but it was clear the eight-year-old was exhausted.

The three boys were in the basement of the house, playing video games with Clark when Bruce had tromped downstairs and made the announcement. He was just glad that Tim wasn't throwing a tantrum at the order. Shaking his head, the billionaire motioned for the child to get up. "You're a big kid, you can get ready for bed without help."

"I don't mind, Bruce." Clark said.

"I'm sure you don't, but …"

"It's cool, really." Clark shrugged and dropped his controller which earned a groan from Dick and Jason. "Sorry guys, have Bruce play for me."

Jason scoffed. "Dad don't play this stuff. He doesn't know how and he doesn't like it."

Bruce eyed the teenager and then shook his head. "I'll play." This earned a shocked look from the two on the ground. They looked from Bruce to each other and then back to their guardian who took a seat where Clark had been, beside Dick. "Well, how do I do it?"

Dick was elbowed in the side by Jason who was laughing in an idiotic way, like Bruce was a dork – and maybe he was. The sixteen-year-old pointed to the controller and explained the buttons slowly, saying what each did. "It's not that hard once you get the hang of it."

They started the game back up and Bruce easily lost. He ended up being riddled with bullets, then bombed, then stabbed by Jason's character. It was his fifth try when he actually killed Jason's figure.

"I don't believe that!"

Dick was laughing rather hard.

"It was luck, that's all!"

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, Jays."

Bruce shrugged his shoulders. "If you think it was luck, let's try it again." So they did, and the next time he ended up killing both of the boy's guys. The third, the fourth, and the fifth time were the same.

Jason ended up chucking his controller at the wall and scowling. "No fucking fair! We've been playing for _years_. Uncle Clark has played more than you and he has yet to beat us! How the hell did _you_ do it?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Bruce asked. "What does Clark have that I don't? Why can't I beat you guys at a game?"

"Dad, no offense, but you're not really the video game type of guy. You're more of a Scrabble guy."

Dick hid a smile that Bruce rolled his eyes at.

"Just because I'm more mature than Clark doesn't mean I can't do what he can. You do realize we're the same age. I know he might act like he's ten years younger, but he's not. In fact, he's a few months older."

"Uh-huh, sure, right." Jason mocked.

"Besides, I hate scrabble."

Richard smiled up at the socialite and shook his head. "It's the principal … though maybe you're more of a Monopoly type of guy."

Bruce stared at him for a second and then drew his arms around the boy, pushing him down and holding him there so he could face Jason. "If you want to join your brother, then say it again – to my face."

Jason laughed, shaking his head. "I don't have to say anything – we all know the truth. I just didn't know you _could_ teach old dogs new tricks."

"That's it." The billionaire let Dick up and moved fast enough to get Jason in a headlock before the teenager ran for it. He sat there, holding the boy's head and just waiting. "You want to tell me that I'm old again? Come on Jays, one more time – for the record."

"I ain't sayin' nothin'!"

"Then we'll be here for a while."

Jason struggled and fought for freedom, but Bruce leaned back enough so he couldn't do anything but stay still. "Fine! What do I have to say?"

"It's a team effort." Bruce eyed Dick and smiled. "Both of you need to admit that you're not fast enough to keep up with me. You're both not good enough to hold your own against _me_."

"Fine! You're the best and we suck!" Jason said loudly, pulling away only to discover his father still had him trapped. "Say it Dick, I'd say it for you!"

Dick opened his mouth but before the words could come out Bruce released Jason. His attention was on Clark, who was walking down the stairs.

"Did he go to bed alright?"

"Yeah, I think so – he was out of it, asleep as soon as he got under the covers practically. So, am I winning, or did Bruce screw up my score?"

Jason smiled, knowing now that Clark was here he could say whatever he wanted. Bruce wouldn't act fun around the reporter – not for his life. "Dad's specialty is at Scrabble – so you can't blame him."

Dick nodded in agreement. "Jays and I took turns playing for you, so your score wouldn't suck _too_ bad."

"Think you're both clever, huh?" Bruce asked, running his hand though his hair. "Well, you're both so smart it's too much for one night. I'd say it's time for bed now."

"WHAT?!"

"NO WAY!"

"You heard me, we had a long day – and you both are tired. Go on and get ready for bed." Bruce spoke in an orderly fashion that confused the two. They couldn't tell if he was in a joking mood or if he was serious. It was hard to figure the man out at times.

Jason cursed under his breath. "Alright! I admit it! Dad kicked our asses at the game! _Now_ can we stay up?"

Shaking his head, Bruce pointed towards the stairs. "Thanks for telling the truth, but that wasn't what I was looking for."

Dick and Jason got up, grumbling and walking up the stairs.

"Oh, and Jason?"

"What?"

"No video games tomorrow for that language. I gave you a warning already, so I don't want to hear any complaints. Night."

Dick laughed and dashed up the stairs, Jason following behind, muttering under his breath.

"They've grown up, haven't they?" Clark breathed, stretching a bit. "How are you doing with Jason? I know he isn't the easiest kid in the world to take care of. Lois told me he scared her earlier today, and I can see why – he can be very … angry, can't he?"

Bruce stiffened a bit, not really wanting to talk about Jason like this. It felt wrong, it felt weird. While what Clark said was true and something the billionaire was concerned about, he didn't know if sharing Jason's life was something that was allowed. Clark was a friend, Clark was the closest thing to family, but … "He'll grow out of it."

"Seems to me he's growing into it."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Bruce demanded. "You think _I'm_ making him like that?"

"No! No, no, no, no! I didn't mean … no, Bruce. It's just, you know, he's got a lot of good reasons to be angry and I was worried that it was just getting worse as he got older. I don't mean to say it's _your_ fault. Dick and Tim, they're both great. I'm glad they're doing so great. Jason's doing pretty well too, it's not like I see him as a failure. I love the kid, but I know how kids can get too. I'm a reporter, right? I do stories, I see things, I hear things."

The rich business man shook his head. "So that makes you know what you're talking about? It's like you said, you're a reporter. Why would I give you a story to write about?"

"It's not like that – I'd never ... listen, I didn't mean to make you mad, ok? I'm sorry."

Bruce stared at the ground for a while and then slowly shook his head, releasing a long sigh. "No, I'm sorry. I'm just sick of reporters; nothing against you or Lois … I'm just sick of the gossip and twisted quotes. And honestly, I'm sort of getting concerned about Jason too. It's just – it's a touchy subject."

The reporter nodded, wishing he could help out more than he just sitting and listening like this. Bruce didn't just talk, things didn't work like that. No doubt, that would be the most the billionaire would say for the rest of the night. "Well, I didn't mean to make it sound like Jason was a devil-child."

The business-man laughed a little.

"I think he's great, and for someone with his past, it's amazing. I meant what I said. I've done stories about kids like him, and it just makes you wonder what went wrong, because they're with loving families, but their past just keeps being dragged to the surface. I'm really happy he's doing so well."

"You don't live with him."

They both laughed a bit at that.

"Dad?" Dick tromped down the stairs, looking back and forth at the two adults talking, a bit curious. If he had come with something to say, it wasn't coming out.

"What is it, Dick?"

"…The, um, the air-mattress is broke I think. Jays and I, um, I was going to sleep there but it went flat. I think there's a hole in it because it won't stay blown up. Is there, like … is there another one?" His eyes went to Clark.

Clark slowly shook his head. "No, that's the only one … it's really old, so no surprise there. Um, I guess I can take a look at it and see if we can find a hole?" They all made their way into the boy's room and found a deflated air mattress that looked unsalvageable. Jason was sitting on the top bunk, just waiting and looking bored. As soon as he saw them come in he started talking.

"There isn't any way _I'm_ sharing a bed with Tim! He wets the bed!"

"Shh!" Bruce ordered, motioning towards the slumbering eight-year-old on the bottom bunk. "You're not even in your pajama's Jason, get changed! You too, Richard … have you guys even showered?"

Jason made a sound of disbelief but slid to the ground and began to dig through his suitcase. "We were getting there."

"Right." Bruce began to examine the air mattress with Clark, but the hole was easily found. It was huge, like someone had torn it open. "What happened?"

"…"

"Richard?"

"Well, it was an accident. Jason and I were being dumb and the mattress got caught on the sharp part of the ladder to the bunk bed …" Dick blushed as he saw his guardian and Uncle both looking for 'the sharp part of the ladder'. "You have to take off the ladder, it's the part that connects it to the bed … it was an accident."

Jason seemed to be ignoring the whole ordeal, gathering his pajamas and heading out into the hall towards the bathroom. Bruce watched him go, not amused. "Jason?"

"_What_?"

"All three of you are going to have to share the bunk beds. Have fun deciding who goes where." Bruce gave a motion similar to a salute, and then turned out of the room, Clark following behind. The reporter reached out and ruffled Jason's hair as he passed the teenager, which only got the boy to glare.

_To be continued …_


	8. Chapter 8

**Authors Note: **This song has _nothing_ to do with the fanfiction, but I adore it. We went on vacation last week and drove twenty hours, and I slept to the CD with this song on it. So I'm rather attached and in love with it. Anyhow, about the fanfiction – I wrote it sporadically, so it's choppy. Most of it was done when I was ready to go to bed, so it's nighttime writing, like comfort food. I was relaxed and thinking about sleep, so you can imagine. Anyhow, I do apologize for not posting in Maybe Today – I swear I'll do that asap. Fortunately we've got internet back today so that means I can actually do stuff now. As for updates on this one, I actually have the ending planned out. During vacation I was inspired to run up this mountain each day (a 45 minute run), yeah be impressed even if it's not impressive. So now I've been running daily and happily at home, and so much has come to mind from it. The main thing being the bond between Dick and Jason, which I haven't really worked on. I've written some crap about when they were little kids that I hope to stick in there, and that'll make the ending even better. Anyhow, enjoy this and if you get a chance then download this song – it rocks hard.

"Finally got over that song of ours, stopped chasing little red sports cars to check the license plates, and I quit driving past your place. Back making the rounds to our old haunts – honkytonks, restaurants. I'm seeing some of our old friends; it feels good to dance again. I can bide the smell of your perfume and not look around the room for you. I can walk right by your picture in a frame and not feel a thing. But when I hear your name I feel rain falling right outta' the blue sky. And it's the fifth of May and I'm right there staring in your eyes. And nothing's change, we're still the same. And I get lost in the innocence of a first kiss. And I'm hanging onto every word rolling off your lips. And that's all it takes, and I'm in that place every time I hear your name. And there we are in a park down by the river side, and I'm in your arms, about to make love for the first time. And that's all it takes, and I'm in that place, every time I hear your name."

_Keith Anderson_ Every Time I Hear Your Name

_**You Do Good, You Find Good**_

**By:** The BatThing

**Chapter Eight:**

"_You're my baby, Jason. I won't ever let anything bad happen to you because you're mine. You're my baby. Do you hear me?"_

_Jason stared at his mother, he was three years old and drinking in every word she spoke, even if they were mostly white lies and half truths. The woman never protected him. Yes, she had tried from time to time, but nothing more than poor attempts. "I hear you."_

"_Jays?"_

_Jays? Since when did his mother call him Jays? It had always been Jason or Jay-Jay, and when he was really little: Jay-Bird, but never Jays. He gave a look of confusion and shook his head. _

"_Jays!"_

"_What?"_

"_Jason! Wa_ke up!"

The dream evaporated like it had never been there and Jason Todd slowly sat up in his bed, rubbing his eyes to rid himself of anything that might be lingering in his mind. He never liked to remember dreams like that if he could avoid it.

"Geesh Jays, you were sleeping like a rock." Dick was looking right at him, perching on the ladder so he could see clearly into the top bunk. "Are you awake?"

"Do I look asleep?" It was cold in the room, cold and dark. Jason glanced around through the shadows, wondering what time it was. "Why did you wake me up?"

"…Tim wet the _bed_." Dick grumbled, looking away and heaving a sigh. "He got me soaked too. It was disgusting."

"So why are you telling me about it? Go shower and change, what are you standing around in pee for?" Jason pushed his older brother away. "Disgusting, Dick!"

The gypsy cocked his head and looked dazed. "What's so gross about it? Mind if I crawl up here with you? I'll shower and change in the morning. I cleaned up with a rag, so I think I'm good."

"You have got to be kidding me – HEY! Don't crawl up here! GO AWAY! Dick – Dick seriously, get back. I'll kick – I'll kick you. Damn it, what are you -." Before Jason could utter another phrase Dick lifted a damp hand and touched his brother's face. "SHIT! FUCKING SHIT!"

Dick was laughing, hand to his mouth and watching as Jason wiped furiously at his face with the sheets. "Dude, I did shower and change. Do you think I'm an idiot? Don't worry, I just spit in my hand."

"Oh, that's _so_ much better."

"Listen, we can't leave Tim like that."

"What do you mean? He hasn't woken up yet?" Jason made a face. "Usually he wakes himself up when he does that, don't he?"

"I dunno … you should go tell Dad."

"No effing way! You go tell him. The last thing I want to do is go wake him up, alright? No thanks." Jason shook his head, backing away cautiously.

"But _I_ don't want to."

"You think I do? Why not just wake up Tim and tell him to tell Dad?" Jason offered, which was followed by a long and thoughtful pause. The two started to chuckle and then nodded.

Dick climbed back down the ladder and reached out towards Tim, shaking his shoulder. "Tim, get up – you wet the bed."

Jason listened to the noise below. It took Dick a few seconds before the sound of Tim waking up could be heard. It was a mumble, a few moans and whimpers and then silence, dead silence. "What's wrong?"

"Tim?" Dick asked. "No, Tim – don't …" And just like that the tears began. Whimpering grew strong and a few gasps for breath. It was clear that the eight-year-old didn't enjoy this any better than his two older brothers did. Though, at this point, Jason wasn't sure who had it worse. Tim – who was still wetting the bed and embarrassed by the action (especially in a stranger's house), Dick who had to wake up wet, and now deal with helping Tim, or Bruce who was going to have to clean everything up. Jason decided that none of them had it as bad as he did, after all – he had to sit here and wait till it was over and do nothing. Very hard indeed. "Tell him to go get Dad."

"Tim, you heard Jason – go tell Dad you wet the bed, alright? He won't be mad, he's never mad … it was an accident, alright? I'm not mad and you got me wet, so why would he be mad?" Dick's words were soft, the opposite of how Jason would have handled things.

"Tim, it's no big deal. This happens all the time." Jason grumbled. "Just go fucking tell dad, alright? If you don't then you can sleep on the couch downstairs, _alone_."

Tim didn't budge. He sat on the bed, quietly sobbing to himself.

"Just go get him, Jason!"

"No way, _you_ go get him."

"You're pissing me off, Jays, I swear … if you don't just go and get him –."

Jason shook his head. "Well, be pissed, 'cause I ain't going nowhere."

Dick glared at his brother, cursed under his breath and then turned out of the room and into the hall. This was _just_ great. He didn't enjoy the idea of having to wake his father up. No doubt Bruce would wonder _why_ Dick was in his room, and probably assume something dumb – like Dick was scared or something. _Please_. Dick blushed as he came before the door and then slowly pushed it open, knocking lightly as he did so. "Dad?"

Nothing.

_Great_. Dick tiptoed a bit closer and cleared his throat. "Dad?" He could hear Bruce's breathing as regular as could be, meaning that the man was in a deep sleep. Why was this so hard? "Dad?" Why couldn't he talk louder? His words were whispers.

Silence.

"Dad!" He spoke a bit louder, and took another step forward like it caused him great pain. "DAD!"

"Uh?" Bruce sat up with a start, fumbling with the sheets to turn and look at what had awoken him. He let his eyes adjust for a few seconds and then groaned sleepily. "Hey chum, what's the matter?" Another groan like waking up was so painful.

"Um, uhm, Tim wet the bed and now he's crying." Dick motioned towards the door with his thumb and then dropped his arm back down lamely. "I don't know what to do."

Bruce nodded and slowly got out of bed. He walked down the hall, Dick close behind, and entered the boy's room where he found Jason sitting up in bed talking to Tim who could be heard crying.

"Look, Dad's here now – you can be a big crybaby to him."

"Jason!"

"Well, he won't stop crying and he's not the one suffering! He's just being a big baby. All he's got to do is jump in the bath and change clothes – but he won't. He just sits there in his own piss and -."

"That's uncalled for and inconsiderate, and if it's all the help you're going to be then sit out in the hall till I figure this out." Bruce said slowly. He knelt beside the lower bunk and looked at Tim for a second and then at the ladder, not hearing any movement from the top bunk. "I'm serious Jason. _Go_."

The teenager made his way out of the room, deciding that he did in fact have it worse then any of the others.

"Tim, you need to stop crying now and go get out of those clothes, ok? Nobody's mad at you. I'll just change your sheets while you're cleaning up and then you can go back to bed. Alright?"

"But I'm eh-eh-eight, an-and I shouldn't have _this_." His words were broken from the gasps he took in an attempt to choke down too much air. His fist rubbed furiously into his eye, like he could block the tears from falling. The eight-year-old couldn't believe what had happened, even if it had happened before. Here he was, in Uncle Clark's house, and he had ruined everything.

Jason had told him so.

"Tim, it's not that bad. It was an accident."

"It _was_ an accident!"

"I know."

The boy looked at Dick, as if his brother would do something to help. After a few seconds staring, Timothy Drake realized that there would be no saving words coming from the gypsy waiting to go back to sleep. "I n-need _Alfred_."

"You don't need Alfred, Tim – you need to change." Bruce said. His voice was stern. He didn't know how calling Alfred would make anything any better.

"_Alfred!_"

"_Alfred_!" Jason mocked from the hall.

"Jason Peter Todd, if I hear one more sound from your direction, then you're going to be _downstairs_ waiting."

Dick was shifting his weight and stifling a yawn.

"I need Al-Alfred. I _need_ him!" Tim repeated. His voice broke into a more pathetic wail then before and Bruce heaved a sigh as he slowly nodded.

"Alright, Tim, I'll call Alfred only if you _stop _crying. Ok? Alfred isn't going to want to talk to you if you're crying."

"Ok."

The billionaire pulled himself to the standing position and started for the door. He made sure to give the middle child sitting in the hall outside a careful look before proceeding back to the room. His ears were tuned for Jason's voice, just waiting to hear the fifteen-year-old say something cruel yet again. Though, fortunately, it didn't happen. Bruce came back into the room with his cell phone and called the butler, who was currently miles and miles away – across the sea. Tim was already reaching up for the phone, grabby and sniffling.

"Master Bruce?" Alfred's voice came in after a click. He sounded as good as ever, though slightly curious.

"Hi Alfred, sorry to bother you – hope we aren't interrupting too much, but I have a situation here." Bruce quirked an eyebrow at the youngest. "Or rather, Tim has a situation. Would you mind talking to him? He apparently _needs_ you."

There was a pause and then a favorable chuckle. "It would be a pleasure." And with that, the phone went to Tim.

"Alfred? I wanna' go home with you now." Tim demanded. "I _need_ you."

Bruce moved backwards, coming to the wall beside the door and glanced to see if Jason was still in his appointed spot. The teenager was, though looked like he could attack at any given moment. The billionaire considered having a talk with him here and now, but decided against it. He was too tired, and it was too late. Jason would say something dumb, or Bruce might even make a slip of the tongue and be a bit more upset then usual. He shifted his attention to where Dick stood, shivering. "You ok, chum?"

The sixteen-year-old nodded, looking back to see his guardian. "Cold."

"Yeah, it's a country house." Bruce didn't like whispering. "An old country house."

"Well our house is old too, but it ain't this damn cold." Jason said from the hall. His spat was forgotten at the hope that perhaps Bruce would do something about making the room warmer. Perhaps he'd run out and purchase a heater or something. A kid could hope. "They're poor or something."

"Or maybe they're use to this." Bruce answered. "They're not poor. Don't say things like that, please."

A wail broke then silence, causing the billionaire and two teenagers to jump at bit. Tim's voice broke from quiet to a sobbing scream. "But I _need_ you!"

The socialite hurried towards the eight-year-old, realizing that the house would probably all be awoken by such a sound. Perhaps letting Tim talk to Alfred was a bad idea, or rather - perhaps coming so far away from home was a bad idea. Though, before Bruce could do anything in his power to silence the child, Alfred had apparently already done so. Tim was whimpering, but now nodding and apologizing to the phone in his hand.

The sound of a door opening caused Jason to jump up and dart into the room, as if terrified of what might be coming his way. He childishly went behind Dick and pushed the boy forward, which only proved to start an argument of whispers and froging.

"Shh." Bruce motioned for the two to stop and headed into the hall, hoping that it was Clark or Lois. Either one would do. He was relieved to find Lois coming down, a sweatshirt and flannel pants as her pajamas. She managed to look beautiful in that, and the billionaire bit down on his tongue, trying not to think things like that … this was Clark's girlfriend. "Sorry to wake you, just a bit of trouble with homesickness."

"Oh, it's fine. Is there anything I can do to help? I just figured you probably could use a hand or something … I mean, I know Alfred probably helps a lot and …" She blushed, realizing she was saying things that could be taken the wrong way. "I just mean that it's a strange house, and maybe you need help."

"Tim's talking to Alfred actually. He had an accident and … I guess is just overwhelmed. It's his first time away from home. This is far away and very different."

The woman smiled pushing her hair back and glancing into the room. All three boys were looking at her, even Tim. "If it'll help, Jason and Dick can sleep in my room and I can take the couch downstairs. I'm sure they're tired and …"

"Oh – no, I didn't … its fine. I didn't really think I guess, they can – they can take my room till this is over. I wasn't thinking I suppose." Truth be told, Bruce had been thinking. He knew the two teenagers were tired and miserable, but so was he. The last thing he wanted was to be alone with Tim on the phone with Alfred. Anybody could walk in and the situation would be awkward. Having Dick and Jason here made it … less so.

"It's Clark's girlfriend, Alfred." Tim said into the phone. "I'm ok now. Yeah. Mmh-hmm. Ok. I love you, Alfred." And then the phone was shut and Tim stared at the four looking his direction.

"Are you ready to change now?" Bruce asked quietly.

"I don't want Auntie Lois _here_." Tim whispered, though all could hear.

Lois smiled, blushing a bit for no real reason and then lifted her hand. "It's ok; I wouldn't want someone around either. I'll just go back to bed. If you need anything, holler." And she hurried away.

Bruce couldn't really get mad. He could understand embarrassment. "Ok, she's gone – now go shower for me, ok?"

Tim got up and headed towards the bathroom. Within seconds the water was running and things were moving forward finally. Dick heaved a sigh and dropped his head a bit, tired and still cold. "Can we change the sheets now?"

"…" There was a problem. "If you know where extra sheets are, then sure."

Dick didn't believe this. He made a sound of pain and sunk to the floor. "I'm _tired_." He whined, like that would make things better – or like he was the only one sleepy.

"I know you are." Bruce scratched his head and then began to strip the bottom bed of the sheets. "Here's the plan. I'll sleep on the couch downstairs. You and Tim can take my room and Jason can sleep here on the top bunk."

"I don't _want_ to sleep with Tim!"

"Then you're going to have to sleep on the couch downstairs."

"Uhgh." Dick glared, crossing his arms. Downstairs wasn't really the prime option. It meant having to wake up to Mr. or Mrs. Kent getting breakfast ready, or Lois getting coffee – some awkward meeting that he didn't want to have. Besides, there wouldn't be many blankets to use down there. He grabbed for his pillow, which Bruce held and started to walk toward the door. "Eww! It's _wet_!"

"Well, I know – that's why I was going to put it in a pile with the rest of the wet stuff." Bruce said.

"But now I don't have a pillow."

"I swear." Bruce muttered under his breath. "There are pillows on my bed. Goodnight."

Dick glared at Jason, finding his younger brother worthy of his wrath as well, then turned and left the room.

* * *

Morning. That was the first thing Bruce realized when he heard the clang and clutter coming from a few feet away and down the hall. He pushed a hand to his face and began to think of how cold it was going to be getting out from under the single afghan that he had used all night long. It had been a fierce and unpleasant battle those many hours prior, to stay warm – and in the end he had won it. Now, getting up into the cold seemed like a foolish idea. Only an idiot would do it. 

Bruce Wayne sat up with a grimaced as he grit his teeth and placed two feet on the cool floor below. Pulling his flannel pajama pants down to cover his ankles, the billionaire looked up at a feeling that someone was watching.

"Good morning, honey – rough night?" Mrs. Kent was smiling, holding a cup of coffee and looking chipper for the early hour of six-thirty. "You want some coffee or would you rather try to sleep a bit more?"

"Coffee sounds great." Bruce admitted. He watched her turn back to the kitchen and then began to fold the afghan poorly, and draping it over the back of the couch like it had been before he came. Pattering into the kitchen on his tiptoes, Bruce found Clark's mother fixing up a mug. "Thank you."

"Oh, honey – trust me, the pleasure is _all_ ours."

That could be debated, but Bruce smiled and accepted the warm mug happily. It was a heaven-sent in this cold. "I bet you're wondering why I was on the couch. I apologize, but we had a bit of an accident with Tim last night and … I …" He didn't know how to go on with that sentence. "I wasn't prepared I suppose. So I put the dirty sheets down in the laundry room … I would have started the wash but … I didn't want to wake anyone. That and I don't really know how to start the machine."

She laughed at that, making everything seem like it was what she wanted. The awkward situation was turned around by her happy sound and Bruce wondered how she managed to do that. Perhaps she really did enjoy having them here, maybe she enjoyed them. "Oh, sweetie, Clark wouldn't know how to wash the clothes if he hadn't moved out on his own. I remember him callin' me and sayin' he was plum outta' things to wear and didn't have money to go buy more. That was _years_ ago. I had to talk him through the whole thing so he could wash his clothes."

Bruce smiled.

"Don't you worry about it a bit, you hear? I'll get some new sheets upstairs and nobody'll be the wiser."

"Thank you."

"Oh, not a worry. Clark had the same trouble, took us till he was five to stop that problem." A mother's story came spilling out. "First I was worried that something was wrong, I was doing something wrong … but it just takes time. Little bodies got to grow, don't they? Enjoy this sort of thing while you can, sweet thing, 'cause one day they'll all be gone."

Saying thank-you again seemed like a lame and redundant thing to do, so Bruce just gave a smile and nodded. He didn't totally agree with 'enjoying it while he could', but her words seemed real, wise. She wasn't lying. "Does Clark come home often?"

"Oh, not as often as we'd like, especially now that he's got Lois to keep him good company. She's an angel though, I'm happy for her – happy all around. They're getting closer and closer, I've got a feelin' that she's going to become more than just a girlfriend soon enough." Another smile, though this time it seemed less bright. "He seems too young to be getting married. Just a few years ago he was getting out of college, and now …"

"College was five years ago, ma. And who said anything about getting married?" Clark came into the kitchen, hair ruffled and glasses in place. "If you want to talk about doing something when you're too young talk to Bruce here. He's the one with three kids."

She ran her fingers across her lips and smiled at Bruce. "He does good." Three words were all she gave, but they made the billionaire feel better. Hardly did he get complements like that, especially not from people who knew what raising kids were like. The papers criticized him, friends criticized him – and sometimes Bruce felt like he had no place with Dick, Jason, and Tim. "Thank you." He meant it.

"You're up early." Clark said to Bruce, not paying any mind to the prior topic. "Still in the workaholic schedule?"

"Something like that. You?"

"Alarm. I heard some commotion early this morning. What was that about?"

"Tim got homesick … sorry if we woke you. I think we managed to get everybody's attention last night."

Clark shook his head. "I fell right back to sleep." His eyes shifted and a smile grew, spreading across his face. "Well, if it isn't Dickie up and ready for the day."

Dick was entering the kitchen, looking forlorn and lost, dazed and confused – like he didn't realize he had walked all the way downstairs and into the presence of these three individuals. Shaking his head at Clark, the teenager walked right back out of the room, which got a chuckle from Mrs. Kent and the reporter.

"Somebody looks asleep still." Clark said.

Bruce followed the boy out the door, checking to see what he was doing. Dick went to the couch and flopped down, pulling the afghan over him and seemingly falling right back asleep. "Apparently."

"What do the boys like for breakfast?"

"Oh." Bruce shrugged his shoulders, glancing at Clark who was opening the fridge and poking about for anything to eat. "They'll eat anything you make. Cereal is fine, oatmeal … anything, really – whatever is easiest."

"Blueberry pancakes, ma." Clark said in a voice that sounded whiney almost. He went over to the woman, hugging her in a pitiful way. "Only you can make them _so_ good."

"Oh you!" She was pleased. "Don't you ever tire of those pancakes? I've been making them all your life about!"

"But they're sooo good." The banter between the two was light, fun, loving – it was a family conversation. Mother and son, happy to be around each other – obviously having missed one another.

Bruce let them be, walking to where Dick lay and sitting on the edge of the couch, finding room by the boy's feet. He could hear Mrs. Kent laughing and Clark talking in a voice that sounded like he was still a kid.

"Dad?" Dick's voice was soft. "I'm sorry about being so dumb last night."

A silence followed that apology and Bruce nodded. "You were tired, we all were. Don't worry about it."

"Dad?"

"Huh?"

"I think Jason has bad dreams."

Bruce leaned back, this time running both hands up his face and through his hair. Sleep was weighing heavily still. "Everybody has bad dreams, Dick."

"No, not like Jays does."

The billionaire didn't answer that. He figured Dick was still half asleep and not thinking straight. There was a concern for Jason that the Romanian boy held ever since he and Jason had crossed paths. Always had Dick thought something was horribly wrong with Jason, always had he feared that Jason was hiding things. And in a lot of ways Bruce agreed, but after years and years of living with Jason Todd, it became obvious that the boy wasn't ever going to let on if he had inner demons. "You're a good brother to worry." Bruce muttered.

Dick didn't say anything.

"It's a bird! It's a plane! It's Uncle Clark, here to save the day!" A voice too cheerful and too awake broke the silence, followed by the sound of the swinging kitchen door. Clark came towards the two, happy like. "How is Dickie this morning? Ready for some blueberry pancakes?"

"Yeah." Dick said, coughing to clear his throat. "How did you sleep, Uncle Clark?"

"Really well. You?"

The teenager shrugged, watching his Uncle take a seat on the rocker a few feet away. "Tim got me wet."

"So I heard … kinda. Your dad mentioned he got homesick at least. I didn't hear anything about the other troubles. You hanging me out to dry, Bruce?"

"Stop being cheerful. We're not morning people." Bruce said in a low voice, which caused Clark to laugh and Dick to smile a bit.

* * *

Jason pulled his hood a bit closer to his face, covering a little more skin from the cold wind that had been blowing since early that morning. The snow that had fallen last night made the walk hard and almost not worth it. He never enjoyed his dumb addiction of lighting up, but now he practically despised it. Why the hell had he let himself get so addicted to these dumb cigarettes? 

Well, this is what he got for it: having to walk about fifteen minutes to the nearest clump of woods where he could light up without being caught. He was thankful for the gusts of wind because the wiped away most of the smoky smell that he had showered upon himself.

"Have a good walk?" It was Clark, walking towards the teenager, smile on his face. "You sure like to take these, don't you? Can't say as I blame you. There are a lot of people in that house. It's nice to get away from it all every now and then." He stood in place till Jason caught up with him. The two said nothing for a short while, walking back towards the house in the distance.

Finally, Jason looked up at his Uncle, curious expression almost. "You didn't have to come out and greet me. I wasn't lost." He couldn't help but worry that maybe Clark was wise to what was happening, so his words were a bit harsh and defensive.

"I know, I just saw you out there and was bored. Everyone seems bored. I told Ma that we should go out to town or something – but I don't think that'd do much either. I mean, town consists of practically nothing. When you're from the city and you come here, things can be a bit dull."

"Yeah, it can."

Clark smiled and nodded, scooping up a handful of snow and taking a bite from it.

"Jason? Could you _please_ make the bed?" Bruce watched as the teenager pulled off his tennis shoes and frowned. "I went in there and the bed was a wreck. Alfred doesn't make your bed at home, so why in the world did think it'd made itself here?"

Scoffing and a bit indignant, Jason headed towards his room to do as he had been told. It was fine by him. He wanted to get away from all these people and hide the extra cigarettes before somebody decided a search would be a good idea. He went up the stairs, down the hall, and into his room, closing the door behind him. To his disappointment Tim was sitting on the top bunk, reading a book. "What are _you_ doing? Get down offa' my bed!"

Tim scurried down, not fighting the order. He watched as Jason clambered up to the top and began to flop the blankets and sheets about till the bed looked half decent. He jumped down, glaring at Tim – angry for no real reason. "What are you looking at?"

"I'm bored."

"Go read your book downstairs, there's nothing I can do about you being bored."

"Dick's taking a nap." Random facts that Jason didn't really care for, but Tim apparently thought were important enough to be told. He cocked his head. "So he won't play with me outside, but …" A pause. "You'll go outside with me now?"

"Why would I want to go outside?"

A small start of a glare, as if the eight-year-old were unsure if Jason was making a joke. "You said you would. 'Member? You said you wanted to go outside alone and that you'd go out with me when you came _back_!"

Jason scoffed at that. "Well, get use to disappointment. I'm not going outside with you, so get over it. I'm tired too – so I'm taking a nap. I'm sick of having to always _play_ with _you_. Can't you find real friends for once?"

"YOU'RE A SINNER!" And with that Tim ran out of the room, book and all.

Thinking about what Tim had said, Jason decided that was one insult he had never received before. It sort of made him laugh simply because he doubted Tim realized what a weird thing he had said. He was as much of a sinner as Tim was, so the insult was hardly worth thinking.

Taking out the extra two cigarettes from his back pocket, Jason unzipped his suitcase and dug out a pair of socks and unrolled them. He shoved the paper objects into the fabric and then put the back in, burying them deep down and not thinking twice about what he had done. After all, he was warm again. It was a knock on the door that forced him to get back up. He opened the door and found Bruce standing there. "Did you come to see my bed?"

"I came to see you. You know, you _did_ tell Tim you'd go outside with him. It's really … mean of you not to keep your end of the deal. Think about going out with him, alright?"

"…I don't want to go outside with him." Jason said. "I did think about it."

"Then don't make promises you can't keep."

"Well if I don't then he'll just run off crying and ruin everything. Tell Tim not to be such a big baby and I won't have to make false promises." Jason stood there, awkwardly, realizing he had just back talked a bit too much, so he uttered a small: maybe?

"Just think about it, Jays." Bruce said and turned back, leaving the room and heading down the hall. This left Jason in a thoughtful way, simply because Bruce usually was much more tight-ass when it came to things. Perhaps being in Kansas had a healing power? Doubtful. Besides, it wasn't affecting anyone but Bruce so that wouldn't make any sense. "Fairies." He decided, and gave his suitcase a small and pleasant, unpleasant, kick.

* * *

"JAYS! JAYS! JAAAYS!" Tim jumped up and down at the sight of his brother coming down the stairs close to fifteen minutes later. He ran over, all smiles, and grabbed Jason around the middle, holding tight. "I'm never letting go!" 

Lois, Bruce, Clark, and Mr. and Mrs. Kent were all sitting a few feet away, conversing, and paying almost no mind to the two boys. Occasionally somebody would glance over, and when it was either Martha Kent or Lois Lane they would get this smile on their face – like suddenly the world was pure and healthy.

Jason looked down at Tim, his eyes momentarily narrow simply because he was in a bad mood for no reason. Well, not for _no_ reason. It just … wasn't Tim supposed to be mad at him? He had been expecting pouting, whining, and he had been hoping that he could get mad about it and well … this wasn't what he expected. "What are you doing?"

"Keeping you close." Tim answered, looking up with his big blue eyes that had a hint of a smile inside there. "What are you doing?"

"Thinking of all the different ways I could kill you."

"No you _aren't_!"

Jason began to move towards the kitchen, dragging Tim along with him and not bothering to toss the boy aside for plenty of different reasons. The first being that everybody was watching and he didn't want to seem like the bad guy, second because he felt he owed Tim the tiniest bit for not going outside, and thirdly because … it was sort of fun. "I'm thinking maybe I'll chop off your arms, how's that? Just let me get a knife and we'll see that those things come right off."

Tim was making a noise somewhere in-between a giggle and a laugh – a real laugh. The sound said: _I'm growing up, and you can't stop me_. "Blood would go everywhere! In the food! On YOU!"

"Yeah, but at least you'd be off of me. Rather have blood than a person. Think about it, seriously. Which weighs more?"

"Me."

"Here's the knife!" Jason reached towards the object and smirked at his younger brother. "This is going to hurt you a lot more than me, but that's ok – you'll manage."

"Do it and I'll bite you!" Tim shouted, latching on tighter and then opening his mouth and pretending to bite Jason in the side.

"Oh dear, what's going on in here?" Martha Kent came into the room, a smile on her face at the sight. Most people might be a bit horrified at Jason holding a knife and Tim attempting to bite, but she didn't seem at all alarmed. "Don't mess up my kitchen – blood stains are hard to get out, you know."

Jason smiled at her and put the knife down. "Good point. I don't feel like having to Clorox everything – that'd be boring."

Tim laughed, and laughed, and laughed.

* * *

**_Six Years Ago: _**

****

_"Hi? I'm Dick Grayson?" Dick's voice was as soft as it could be, but he tried as hard as he could to make it loud and clear. He was scared of the figure sitting a few feet away, scared of something that he didn't understand. Bruce had warned him, Alfred had warned him – be careful, be kind. _

_Be careful because there was no knowing Jason Peter Todd, and what he would do. Be kind because there was no knowing Jason Peter Todd, and what he had been through. _

_Dick was curious, he was interested, he was excited. A possible friend, best friend, sat so close. No amount of warnings and discouragement could change the gypsy's mind at this point. He took another step closer, like maybe that would allow for Jason to acknowledge him. "You're Jason." _

_"I want to go home." Jason muttered, not lifting his eyes. He kept them down, staring at the floor, shifting his gaze like he had something to hide. "Just let me go home." _

_"…I- I wanted to go home when I first came too, but I couldn't because, well, it's not allowed." Dick made his way over, sitting beside Jason – the first person to come so close in weeks. "It's a law or something." _

_"It's stealing is what it is. It's the law not to steal, but they're done it, haven't they? They ca-can't just _take_ me." _

_Thinking about that, Dick decided that there was miscommunication or a misunderstanding. He strained to make more sense this time, thinking through what to say as best he could. Alfred always told him to put himself in other people's shoes, so that was what he would do. "I don't think they're going to let you go home because … well, you have to be with an adult. If you don't have an adult, then you can't live on your own." _

_Jason grew more tense, hugging his knees. "I have my dad." _

_"But he's bad." Dick stated without hesitation. "He's _mean_ to you and other people." _

_"Everybody is like that! I don't care about … I just want to go home! I hate it here. I _hate_ it here." And he really did. It was a frightful situation. Ever since his father had made the mistake of getting in trouble with the law by messing with Bruce Wayne's kid – Jason had been sent into a spiral of confusion. He had been placed into some child's home for two days before shipped off to some family. And what good was that? Now he was here, in a house bigger than anything Jason Todd every dreamed of. It was scary and it wasn't what he was comfortable with. Strangers filled the spaces, and objects that looked like they might come alive and hurt him. _

_Thinking about it a little more, Dick decided it would be best to change the subject. "You wanna' go play outside with me?" _

_"I wanna' go home." _

_"You wanna' play a board game or something – we have lots of those." _

_Jason shook his head, eyes closed. _

_"Get cookies from Alfred?" _

_"I just want to go HOME!" _

_Persistent, Dick tried again. "Well, how about the pool? Do you want to swim?" He didn't figure that his new playmate would want to do this either, but it sounded like fun. Water and Dick mixed since the day they crossed paths – and Wayne Manor had an awesome pool. _

_Jason was silent, but there was a curious expression he carried. Slowly, he turned to face Dick and shook his head. "I don't know how to swim. I've never been to a pool." _

_"Never been to a pool?!" _

_A glare. "Well, no." _

_"It's just downstairs, come on – I'll show you." Dick got to his feet, jumping in place as he waited for his friend to follow his act. "Hurry, come and see!" _

_"It's inside the house?" Jason was shocked, utterly shocked. This wasn't like anything human – it was weird. He slowly got up, having the need to see just what kind of pool this was. "How did it get inside the house?" _

_"It's always been here." _

_Jason made a face. "But how do they put water in it? There isn't any rain to fill it up, is there? Does the roof have a hole for that?" _

_Now it was Dick's turn to look confused. "Rain doesn't fill up the pool! Hoses fill up the pool. Don't you know that? Haven't you ever _seen_ a pool?" _

_"On TV and in pictures, I have. My friend Tommy went once and he said he had to pay five dollars to go. He said that there were a lot of people there. Do a lot of people come to your pool?" _

_"No! Just me really. Sometimes Dad gets in, Alfred never does. Dad doesn't get in usually unless he's got a girlfriend over. Nobody else ever gets in … hey! I bet, I bet that if we wanted we could get a lot of money by letting people in!" Dick moved his hands, animated as he spoke. "Your friend said that it was crowded at the pool, right? So I bet we could charge, like, six dollars and let people come!" _

_"Six dollars?! We'd be rich!"_

_To be continued …_


	9. Chapter 9

**Authors Note: **I wanted to wait to post this, but I feel guilty because I don't see many fanfictions out right now. So, this is basically because I feel bad. So, if I want to change something, I'm sunk. LOL. Enjoy – and Happy Thanksgiving. PS: I didn't edit this, so it'll be pretty bad.

"Love shall be our token. Love be yours and love be mine."

_Jars of Clay_ Love Came Down at Christmas

_**You Do Good, You Find Good**_

**By: **The BatThing

**Chapter Nine: **Donkey Kong and Watermelon Gum

It was the morning of Christmas Eve, and Timothy Drake knew it, and he was so excited that at times that he couldn't stand it. It was positively driving his family up a wall, though the Kent's seemed to be handling his hyper energy rather well. Martha Kent would remark how nice it was to have young children around and about, while Jonathan Kent would laugh at the child - finding the boy amusing and pleasant. Clark didn't seem to care at all, sometimes joining the eight-year-old in his antics.

They had all agreed to go out for breakfast that morning, driving to the closest Morning Run. Everybody seemed excited about the idea, save Bruce. As much as he wanted to get out of the house and into society again, to see other people, strangers, and just be around some commotion that was normal, he just didn't want to have to try and control Tim and Jason – fearing the whole time they'd misbehave.

But how could he say no? It _was_ the day of Christmas Eve.

"Tim, it's not that hard – just order what sounds good." Bruce encouraged, his voice as kind as possible. "You like pancakes, why not get those?"

The eight-year-old heaved a sigh and shook his head. "'Cause we had pancakes yesterday morning. I don't want to eat them again!"

"Then get the eggs." Jason muttered, playing with his fork. He was slouched down in his chair, long face. "I don't care what you get, just get it – we're all hungry."

"The french toast here is pretty good." The Metropolis reporter suggested as he smiled between persons.

Bruce pointed to the picture of it on the menu. "You'll like that, Tim. When Alfred makes it you always eat it."

The waitress crept over to their table for the second time, wondering if they were ready to order yet. She didn't want to be annoying, but they had been sitting for an awful long time – and maybe they were ready now. It was always hard to tell. "Hey guys, decide what you want yet?"

Tim shook his head only to have Bruce nod. "Yes, we're ready. Thank you." He ordered for himself and then got Tim the French toast, despite the boy's complaints that he didn't want that. Even when the waitress told the child it would come with a free treat, he pouted.

"I want to order my _own_ food, Dad!" He begged, talking over Clark, who was attempting to place his order. "Jason and Dick get to pick _they're own_ food. Me too!"

"You took too long." End of argument.

Once the waitress had down everything she smiled and gave a nod, trying not to feel too sorry for Tim. She felt guilty, like she had forced the father to order for the little boy because she had come too early.

When the food came out, Tim refused to eat a bite, which make the Kent family miserable and guilty feeling and made Bruce, Jason, and Dick callous. They certainly didn't care at this point. Tim was being a baby, it was that simple. He liked French toast, he was just throwing a fit.

"You want some of my eggs?" Clark offered finally.

"Mmm!" Tim humphed, crossing his arms and dropping his head with a glare. "I want to order my own food."

"It's too late, Tim. So eat, because I don't want to hear you complaining that you're hungry after we leave."

Jason and Dick were laughing about something or other and glancing at a table across the room. They kept bowing their heads together and then ending their discussion with a shove or two and more laughter. Bruce took a moment to see what the commotion was about and caught sight of an Amish couple a few feet away. He narrowed his eyes at the two boys. "What are you two laughing about?"

Dick jolted a bit and sat up. "Nothing." He was blushing now.

Jason just proceeded to shove food in his mouth and ignore the question completely, like maybe Bruce hadn't been talking to them. Maybe he had been referring to the group a few rows down that had been laughing.

Disappointed, and showing it in his face, Bruce sighed and shook his head. "We'll talk about it later."

"It's now what you think, Dad." The sixteen-year-old answered, turning all the more red as Clark, Lois, and Mr. and Mrs. Kent began to look away, trying to ignore what was happening.

Bruce didn't say anything, he just returned to his meal.

The adults made small talk for a little while and then it became a real conversation. Fifteen minutes later Tim was starting to eat what was on his plate, and within another fifteen minutes his mood was much better. Finally, they all got up and Bruce insisted on paying for the meal, refusing to be dissuaded. "You're feeding us for every other meal, I'm getting this one."

"Dad! I have to go to the bathroom!" Tim began jumping up and down, twittering about like he just realized this. "It's an _emergency_!"

"Dick, take him to the bathroom."

"Why _me_? He's eight, he can go by himself. He doesn't need -."

"I'll walk him there." Clark volunteered, making Dick feel guilty.

"No, I'll do it. Come on, Tim." Dick pushed his little brother and the two left the group. Jason stood awkwardly as the Kent family and Lois began to walk towards the doors. He stuck with Bruce, heading towards the cash register, hands in his pockets, considering going to find Dick and Tim in the bathroom.

On second thought. No thanks.

"So, what did I _misunderstand_." The billionaire-business man asked as they waited in line.

"Huh?"

"Dick told me that I didn't know what I was talking about. So, what were you two laughing at?"

Jason stared at the man for a few seconds, thinking that one through. He had made up a few lies, but now they all seemed dumb. He knew he'd get in trouble for telling the truth, so that option didn't seem the route he'd like to take. Shrugging his shoulders, he once again tried for silence.

Nothing doing.

"You come from Gotham City, you see all sorts of people there – it's as diverse as it gets, and then you come here and _laugh_ when you see differences?" Bruce scolded. "You know better, both you and Dick know better."

"Don't get mad at me – Dick was doing it too!"

"That's why I said both you and Dick." He handed the receipt to the woman at the register and smiled, giving her his credit card.

"How was everything?"

"Just fine, thank you."

She swiped the card and handed him the receipt to sign. "Just need your signature."

Bruce began to sign when she let out a shriek. "I knew it! You're Bruce Wayne!!"

He smiled politely.

"My family is _never_ going to believe this. Why are you eating _here_?" She took back the signed document and stared at it. "Can I have your autograph?"

"…Sure." He quickly signed a napkin and gave it to her with a smile. "I don't know what good that'll do you, but there you go. Thanks again."

"COME BACK _SOON_!"

Jason ducked his head as people turned to look, chittering and chattering about the famous man walking through the building. "Oh god, this is embarrassing." And it was, for Jason _and_ for Bruce.

They made their way outside to where Clark, Lois, and Mr. and Mrs. Kent all stood. Clark was first to give them a smile. He began to clap slowly. "Mr. Wayne, might I have your autograph as well?"

Bruce just narrowed his eyes, looking serious enough to make Clark roll his eyes.

"Do we need to leave now? Would you like to go home, honey?" Mrs. Kent asked, lightly pressing a hand on the billionaire's arm. "I don't want you to be uncomfortable."

"It's a small town, I hardly think anything is going to happen."

"Well, small towns can make it worse sometimes." She replied. "The smaller the town, the faster the gossip travels, and the quicker it becomes lies."

"That happens in Gotham too." Jason muttered, rocking on his heels as they waited for Tim and Dick to come. He was bored without his brothers. When Grandma and Grandpa Kent were around, Clark, Bruce, and Lois became uneventful and boring. They all just talked. Spotting a group of carolers a ways down the street, Jason decided to go check it out. He strolled off, drawing his jacket tighter around him.

The group of singers looked dorky, singing with their booklets. All of them were merry in spirit, and some of them couldn't sing worth anything. Though, that didn't stop people from pausing to listen to them.

Jason found them stupid, just like the people who caroled in Gotham City. He didn't understand the pastime and figured he never would. He crossed over the street and began to look in the store windows. Things here were priced either much too high or much too little. Candy was on the cheap, in bulk bags, and looking gross – clothes too. How many horse shirts could one town have? Honestly?

"_We wish you a Merry Christmas_!"

The teenager jumped and swung around to find the group of singers now singing to him. He blushed and shook his head, hoping nobody saw that spectacle, and dodging into a store to escape the cheerful bunch.

"Hello! How are you doing?" It was a hardware store, and the owner looked pleased. People were bustling about inside, probably looking for last minute gifts and what not. "Merry Christmas."

Jason nodded and began to poke around, interested to see what was inside. Tools had never been on his interest list, but they weren't dumb to him either. He just wished he knew more about them then he actually did. Growing up in the Wayne household didn't mean you acquired much knowledge in the mechanical department.

"Looking for something in particular?"

"No. Just looking."

"We have a lot of good stuff in here, just let me know if you need help finding anything, ok?"

Nodding, Jason walked up and down the aisles. After a few minutes he decided that Dick and Tim were probably done and ready to go now, and if he didn't go soon he'd get in trouble. So, not bothering to return the goodbye he received, he left the store and headed back down to the restaurant.

But nobody was there.

Bruce, Clark, Dick, Tim, Lois, Grandma and Grandpa Kent – they were all gone. This startled the fifteen-year-old slightly and he walked down the road, thankful to see that their cars were still there. Well, wherever they went – they couldn't be too far. Maybe they went back inside to wait for Dick and Tim? Jason headed back into the store and saw nobody.

"Welcome to Morning Run, how can I help you?" A waitress was smiling down at Jason, holding a menu in hand.

"I'm looking for my family." Jason slowly answered, still glancing around. "My brothers were in the bathroom and my Dad was outside talking … you didn't see …" His voice died away and he frowned. "Never mind."

"Are you sure – do you need to use our phone?"

Jason shoved his hands in his pockets and went on outside, looking up and down the streets. Well, they weren't here – so he might as well get looking for them. Searching in and out of stores, figuring that the town was too small to get lost in, Jason began the search. Though, twenty minutes later he was starting to worry. At which time he forced himself to go back to Morning Run in hopes that they were there waiting for him, because he was out of ideas.

Hurrying down the sidewalk, Jason bowed his head in slight embarrassment. What was he going to say when he found everyone?

"JASON!" Clark's voice came out of nowhere.

"JAYS!"

Swinging around, relief flooding in, Jason saw Clark, Lois, and Tim hurrying towards him. "I've been looking for you guys! Where'd you go – why'd you leave?!" He was upset now. "I went to the restaurant and you were all _gone_! I've been looking for the past half hour for you!"

"We've been looking for _you_! Where were you? One minute you were there with us, the next we're all walking downtown and Dick asks where you are." Clark raised an eyebrow. "We split up, Ma and Pa are waiting at the cars and Dick and Bruce are searching too."

"I can't believe you guys didn't notice I was missing until _after_ you walked away!"

"Well, we weren't expecting you to walk away, dear." Lois answered, cold and tired of searching. She had worried, and Jason appeared totally ungrateful for her struggles. "Clark, call Bruce and tell him that we found him."

"Why didn't you call us?" The reporter pulled out his cell phone with a curious look. His voice was now taking on a stern tone. "We were all worried, Jason."

"I don't have my cell phone with me, and I don't memorize everyone's numbers. Don't get so upset – I'm the one who was _lost_."

"And we were all searching for you." Clark said. "Bruce – hey, we found him. Yeah, he's fine. I dunno, we're about five minutes away from the car – meet you there. Ok, bye." He clicked off and began walking down the way. "Come on, in a little while we'll be back home and warm again."

"Uncle Clark?" Tim began, shivering as he held Lois' hand. "Are we almost back yet?"

"Almost, Timmy."

They beat Bruce and Dick to the cars, and talked with Mr. and Mrs. Kent about what had happened. Or, Clark and Lois talked about what happened. Jason was doing everything but being cheerful. He kept to himself, glaring and muttering how it wasn't his fault and that nobody had any right to be mad at him. Tim listened to him for a little while but then went to go sit with Lois and Clark, finding his brother too mean at the moment.

Dick and Bruce came, about ten minutes later, Dick talking and Bruce listening.

"You're so _dead_ Jason!" Dick yelled, waving to his brother. "I'm cold and miserable because of you. Dad and I were about _killed_ by some carolers and attacked by a teenage group of girls. There were like, eight of them."

Jason glared.

Coming up before his brother, Dick assessed the situation. He read the body language and the tension quickly. "What's _your_ problem?"

"_Nothing_."

"Then say thank you."

If looks could kill, Dick would be dead in the street. "Ok, right – say thank you for loosing me. Sure. Thanks for walking off and not noticing. Yeah, that too. Thanks for being such a hard ass about this whole thing. It's not like you're the only one who was searching, _Dick_. _I. Was. Too_."

"Whoo." The gypsy raised his eyebrows and gave a look that just angered his brother all the more.

"Can we go home now?" Tim whined. "I'm cold and hungry."

"Are you ok, Jason?"

Jason looked up at Bruce and nodded jerkily. He was ok, just upset because everyone seemed to be upset with him. It wasn't like he had _meant_ to get lost. It had just _happened_. And how was it that nobody noticed he was missing until so much later? That was sort of depressing to hear. "_Fine_."

Bruce studied him. "What happened?"

"It was an _accident_!" Jason snapped. "I just walked over to some store and looked inside. When I came out you were all _gone_."

"It's ok, Jason."

"Well, you're all _mad_ at me."

"We were all worried – nobody's mad that you were lost."

"Right. Tell that to Dick and Uncle Clark."

"Come on, let's get home." Not in the mood to argue it, Bruce just let it go. "It's cold out here."

"_Wait_!" Dick's voice sounded like he was startled. And as soon as the teenager spoke he was blushing, feeling dumb for an unknown reason. "Would you mind if we looked around. Jason and me?"

Everyone was quiet, and Jason gave Dick a strange look, apparently lost as to what was happening.

"It's just … it's not so great hanging out at the house all the time. I mean, I love being there, but I thought maybe we could look around town. You know? It's not like Gotham, it's not like anything'll happen or _can_ happen. I mean, I guess it could happen." He sighed and then took in a deep breath, meeting Bruce's eyes and holding them. "Is it ok?"

The billionaire looked over to Clark. "Is that ok with all of you?"

"Well, we took two cars." Clark slowly responded, taking Lois' hand with a smile. "I don't mind leaving my car for Jason and Dick to take back home. We could all fit into the Ma and Pa's mini-van."

"You don't mind?"

"No, I don't mind. If they wreck my car, what's the worst that'll happen. I rented it, so I'll just make _you_ pay." Clark laughed a bit and then shrugged. "It's fine."

Tim's hunger and cold were forgotten now. "Can I go with them?"

First response, for Dick, was no – but as he thought more about it he realized that Tim coming with might be of use. "I don't mind if he does, Dad. Don't worry, we'll watch him."

Jason groaned. "Well, I don't want to go if we're going to -."

"It'll be cool, Jason." Dick snapped. "I'll watch him, ok?"

* * *

"So, you mind explaining what we're doing?" Jason questioned as he watched Tim and Dick waving goodbye. The three stood beside Clark's car, innocently. 

Dropping his hand, once the car was out of sight, Dick turned to his brother with a frown and lifted both eyebrows in an expression of seriousness. "Christmas is tomorrow, guys."

Placing a hand against his heart, Jason tisked. "Tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow!" Tim squealed, happy to relive this fact.

"Stop being a dumb-ass, Jason. What did _you_ get for Dad?"

"…"

"Alfred always takes care of this, and I just realized, when we were searching for you – we didn't check up with him before we left." The sixteen-year-old heaved a sigh and looked around the mild streets. "I don't have too much money on me, so we're going to have to find something cheap."

"Oh good." Jason said.

"Anything's better than nothing."

"Even dirt?"

"You know what I mean."

"How about a sucker?"

"Stop it, Jays."

"Is a yo-yo better than nothing? I bet Dad would think it was _awful _thoughtful of us to get him a yo-yo." As Jason talked, Dick began to walk away, dragging Tim with him, headed towards the nearest store. The fifteen-year-old smirked and ran to catch up. "Sometimes nothing is better than something, if something's stupid."

Dick pushed the door open, causing a bell to ring-a-ling in greeting. "_Ok_, Jason – you're right."

"I am right. Now what sort of thing do you have in mind for dad?" He walked over to a box labeled 'Bargain Bin' and pointed it out to his brother. "This is a bunch of cheap stuff. Look, just _look_." He saw Dick ignoring his find and didn't approve. "They have, oh! They have old gameboy games in here for like … the brick gameboy. See, Donkey Kong!"

"What's Donkey Kong?" Tim asked.

"Because Dad has an old Gameboy."

"What's Donkey Kong?"

"I'm sure he could buy one."

"Be serious, Jason. I just want to get this over with." Dick scanned the shelves.

"WHAT'S DONKEY KONG!?"

"It's a game, Tim, come on and look with me."

Jason stuck out his tongue in a spat of protest and then rummaged through the rest of the box. He found odds and ends, but nothing that was really of any use to either of them. It was all, well, mostly just junk. A bird pen, a few rocks, crayons, cassette tapes, and matches haunted the cardboard box. "I admit defeat."

"Can I help you?" The store clerk had found his way to where Jason stood rummaging. He was a middle-aged man, balding, but appeared happy enough. "Looking for anything in particular?"

First instinct was to brush the man aside, ignore the question, or just say 'no', but Jason caught himself and slowly nodded. "We're looking for a gift. Do you have kids?"

The man smiled pleasantly and chuckled. "Trying to find a late Christmas gift, are we?"

"Is that a no or a yes?"

"I have two daughters and a son." He was still smiling, as if the conversation was amusing. "Does that help you with your purchases, young man?"

"Not yet. So, what do expect from your kids then – if you could pick something for them to buy you in this store, what would it be?" Jason glanced around the small building and snorted. "Make sure it's cheap though."

Putting a finger to his cheek, the manager began to walk around, thinking about the question. "What I'd want and what you're mother or father would want are two very different things. Which one is this for?"

"Our dad."

"And what does he like to do?"

Jason glanced at Dick who began to chuckle. "Uhm, not much. He likes to work. He doesn't really have free time."

Nodding at their response, and still thinking about what a good answer would be, the store owner began looking around again. "Well, what kind of work does he do?"

"Business." Dick answered, following the older man in hopes that they'd find a good gift with his help. "Mostly business, he's really smart so, I dunno – he does a lot."

"A pen's a bit to cliché, huh?"

Jason and Dick both nodded.

"You could always go with the tie response. My kids do that a lot. Though, we don't sell clothing here. Well, socks, but no ties. Last year the kids got me a lot of chocolate – your dad like chocolate?"

The two teenagers shook their head.

"Doesn't like chocolate! Well …"

"He doesn't hate it, but it's not like his passion." Jason muttered.

"Well, you could always make him something." The owner looked down at Tim when he spoke, a kind smile at the child. "I'd bet he'd like that. It'd be a lot more personal. You could make him something for his office."

Tim shied away, moving closer to Jason and taking his hand without a second thought. He didn't like being spoken to, especially by somebody he didn't know in a store he didn't know, in a town he didn't know. It was just uncomfortable for the eight-year-old.

Jason instantly pulled his hand away and shook Tim off. "We're teenagers, that's not acceptable anymore."

"That's not necessarily true. You could buy a picture frame and then a cheap camera and take a picture of you three, get it developed – and there you go. An easy and cheap gift."

"Developing film isn't exactly cheap."

"What are you worried about, cheap or not, giving Dad a picture of us is lame-ass. There's no way I'm sitting down for a picture." Jason proclaimed, offended that Dick would even think such a thought. "It'd be ok if we were girls, but were not. We're all boys here. Well, you and I are boys. I'm not so sure about Timmy."

"I'M A BOY!" Tim declared, hands going to his hips.

Dick rolled his eyes and began to look at frames. "Unless you think of something a hell of a lot cleverer, then we don't have much of a choice."

"We only hit up one store. Lets at least try a few more before we reduce ourselves to _that_." Jason pleaded. "Besides, Dad has pictures of us in his office – it's not like he's in need of more of them."

The manager just kept smiling. "Well, if you do decide to do the picture idea, I'd be happy to take it for you. Just ask."

"We will, and thank you for your help." Dick replied, honestly meaning it. The man had been kind to offer so many suggestions and so much conversation. He hadn't been upset with Jason either. It was hard to find people who didn't leave after Jason got talking. "We'll probably have to go with the picture idea though, but we'll see."

"Merry Christmas boys."

Walking outside, a bit at odds and a bit glum, Jason, Dick, and Tim continued with their search. It almost seemed pointless to Jason, simply because everything he thought of seemed dumb. Getting his father a gift wasn't going to be easy, and if it wasn't going to be easy, then it was going to be impossible – and Jason Todd didn't like impossible tasks.

Dick, on the other hand, found their task all the more serious and dire. There was no option _but _to get a gift. And if taking a lame-oid picture was all they came up with then he was going to do it. After all _he _was the oldest. _He_ was the person Jason and Tim looked up to for this sort of thing. And if it didn't get done then _he'd_ be the person everyone blamed. "Pajama pants aren't a bad idea." Dick offered, pointing across the street to a clothing store that looked more like a flea market. "It's Christmasy _and_ useful."

"And cheap." Jason agreed, fighting away from Tim, who was attempting to take his hand again. "I wouldn't mind giving him those. It's ten times better than a stupid picture."

"Yeah, but -." Dick shrugged, not really sure where he was going. He liked the idea of being done searching and worrying, but the pajama pants seemed impersonal. It was like they were saying: _Here, we couldn't think of anything better, and we didn't care to try. _"I dunno. What do you think Tim? Do you think Dad would like pajama pants?"

"It's boring. Why don't we get him the Donkey King game?"

"Donkey Kong." Dick corrected. "How about we keep looking for at least a little bit longer – and if we don't find something, we'll get the pajama pants."

Jason rolled his eyes, but to his credit, kept quiet.

To Be Continued ...


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note: **I love Third Day's Christmas CD. It's awesome. I got it last year, listened to it all year round, and still can adore it. I know a lot of people probably aren't Christians, and I'm not judging, and I'm not pushing, but I'd like to post this quote below, 'cause it's just awesome. It gives me the _chills_ (brr!). So, don't take offense: there's none meant to take. This is mine, it's for me. I'm quite selfish in this sort of way. Merry Christmas (starts of the season!)

"Baby Jesus, did you know you'd die for all our sins? Don't be afraid, for in three days, you will rise again."

_Born in Bethlehem _Third Day

_**You Do Good, You Find Good**_

**By:** The BatThing

**Chapter Ten: **Christmas Trees and Christmas Things

"I'm home, I'm home, I'm home, I'm home, I'm home, I'm home!" Tim ran into the kitchen, energy to spare, too much to bear. A smile was plastered across his face as he searched for somebody to greet him. He had been gone with his big brothers for almost an hour, and such a treat was rare. Hanging out with Jason and Dick meant you were cool. Hanging out with Jason and Dick meant you were something. "DAD? UNCLE CLARK? AUNTIE LOIS?"

Dick and Jason were just coming in the door, stomping their feet, cold from the walk inside. They didn't think much of Tim's screaming and shrieks, the lived with it on a daily basis, and they had heard much worse from the eight year old.

"DAD!"

"Maybe they're on a walk or something." Jason offered, but the caught himself. "Though, the door was unlocked when we came in."

Dick shut the large wooden door, happy to be back inside. He glanced up at Jason, sensing he was being watched. "What?"

"I dunno."

Tim dashed up the stairs, searching about, and finding nobody in the house. He ran all the way back down, into the den, and once more – not a person in sight. "Where is everybody?" Finding his brothers shrugging off their jackets, Tim looked sorrowful. "Where's dad?"

Hanging up his sweatshirt, Jason gave a smirk. He turned to face Timothy, instantly morphing his smile into a serious frown and solemnly shook his head. Casting a momentary glance towards Dick, he sighed. "I heard Dad talking last night, guys. He was telling Uncle Clark that things weren't going so well back in Gotham and that he'd have to go back to work if they didn't improve."

Dick tried to hide his smile.

"I bet Mr. Fox called him and said he had to come back. They only had one car, remember? I bet that Uncle Clark offered to drive him, and everybody else decided to go along."

Tim's eyes were getting wider as concern mounted.

"It's ok though. How far away is the airport? Uncle Clark and his family will be back in four hours or so." A shrug. "Oh well."

The house was slowly starting to warm Dick and the others up, and the sixteen-year-old was finding Tim's reaction amusing. He was actually falling for the story, and that made it fun. It wasn't too hard to convince Dick to join in. Taking on an expression much like Jason's, Dick ran a hand through his hair. "This is going to suck. Christmas without Dad _and_ Alfred. I mean, what's Santa going to do?"

"What do you mean?"

Jason put a hand to his head, as if suddenly remembering. "Oh shit! _Santa_! He's going to go to Gotham now with our presents."

"What do you mean?!"

"I mean Santa goes where your parents go. Since Dad is home, Santa brings our stuff there. He tracks kids through their parents, Tim. You know that."

Tim hadn't know that – it was a frightening revelation. Not only was his father gone for Christmas, he wasn't going to be getting any gifts. "Why would dad leave us?"

"Work's important." Dick explained.

"But I want him."

"Well, you can't always get what you want. You said you wanted to come here, remember? You cried when Dad said you weren't going to come. He thought you'd rather stay here." Dick shook his head and checked the time, moving into the kitchen. "Hey, Jason – why don't we go home too? You wanna' go home?"

Tim nodded in eagerness. He wanted to go back home. He didn't want to stay in this strange house on Christmas. It wasn't what he had planned – and the thought seemed all the more scary with the house so empty and cold. "I wanna' go home!"

"_You can't go home_. Me and Dick can, because we're old enough. You're too young to go on a plane without your parent's permission. It's a rule, Tim. It's ok though, you like Grandma and Grandpa Kent – you guys'll have fun together. And once we get home we'll call you and tell you when you can come home. It'll probably be by New Years or something. And we can mail you your presents"

"Come on; let's go pack to go home." Dick began to walk out of the kitchen and towards the stairs. "I don't want to spend Christmas Eve all alone here."

"You can't leave _me_. I'm only _eight_!" Tim shrieked, dashing after his brothers, grabbing Jason's shirt and holding extra tight. "I'm not old enough to be alone – Dad and Alfred always say that I can't do stuff alone! 'Member! That's why Dick had to take me to the bathroom today. Remember?!"

Heaving a sigh and continuing up the stairs, Jason just shrugged. "You'll be fine. We'll lock the doors."

"_NO_!"

Dick was beginning to feel that the joke was going a bit far. Tim was starting to panic, and it just wasn't as funny if the little boy was so scared. Casting a sidewise look to Jason, he opened his mouth to explain that they were only kidding, but it was too late. Tim sat down on the stairs and began to cry, burying his head in his arms and sobbing his little heart out, scared to be left alone – scared that Christmas wasn't going to happen – scared that he was going to be lost or forgotten, or killed, or … he just didn't know. He'd never been without his family before. Not like this.

"Tim-." Dick moved to the raven-haired child and sighed, smiling at Jason. "We're kidding. It was just a joke, ok?"

If Tim heard his brother talking, he didn't show any sign. He just kept right on going with the tears and sniffles. Not willing to show his face, fearing to.

"It was a _joke_. 'Ha-ha', funny, right?"

"Yeah, Timmy, just a joke. Look – I bet Dad'll be back here any second now."

As if heaven sent, the sound of the door opening was heard, and Clark's voice.

"See! You can stop crying now – Dad's home, go and see, ok? Just stop crying." Jason was now starting to worry. He didn't want to get lectured on making Tim cry. It had just been an innocent joke. "Stop crying, Tim, you big baby!"

"I hear crying." Clark was saying.

"Uh-oh." Lois answered. "You better get Bruce in here. I'll go see what's the matter. Boys?!"

"Everything's ok!" Dick called out. "We're fine! Sh, stop crying Tim – _come on_!"

Tim shook his head, eyes shut tight. He refused to cooperate with his older siblings at this point, finding them both to be liars and just plain misleading. "I WANT DADDY!"

"He's dead." Jason muttered, which earned an elbow from Jason and just wailing from Tim.

"Timmy, baby – what's the matter?" Lois came into sight, walking briskly towards the child on the stairs, surrounded by his brothers. She looked for an answer, but nobody moved to explain the situation, and she didn't know if it was her place to ask for clarification. "Come here, baby." She pulled the child into a hug, comforting him as best she could. "Are you hurt?"

Tim gave no movement for an answer.

"What's going on?"

Jason and Dick instantly bowed their heads, a bit ashamed and a bit concerned that they were going to now be in trouble. Bruce approached the group. As soon as he has spoken, Tim's head jerked up and he broke free from Lois, rushing to his guardian and flinging himself at the man. The crying didn't stop completely, but it did slow quite a bit.

Bruce picked up the eight-year-old, genuinely confused and now a bit concerned as Tim held tight, hiding his head in the man's shoulder. "What happened to him?"

"…" Neither Jason nor Dick said anything.

"They tuh-tuh-told me that y-yuh-you were going b-back home without us! Th-they sai-ai-aid that Santa wouldn't find me. They said that they were going to leave me. They said that – that I'd be ok in a locked house!" Tim's crying was now over as he found himself safe from the dreaded situation. "Were you going to the airport?"

"Real funny, guys." Bruce snapped to his oldest two.

"It was just a joke." Dick answered. "I didn't know he'd take it so _seriously_."

"Come on, Tim – we went out to get a surprise." Bruce carried the child back to the doorway. "You too, Jason and Dick."

They all made their way outside, back into the cold, and found a big cardboard box being hauled out of the van by Clark and his father.

"Do you know what that is, Tim?" Bruce asked. "That's why we were gone. Clark and his parents keep their Christmas tree in the barns, way up high. We went to go get it down so we could put it up."

Well, this was a cause for excitement and celebration. "A CHRISTMAS _TREE_!"

* * *

Putting up the Christmas tree didn't take all too long, even though there was little help. Jason and Dick refused to assist, and if they were forced to help, they did it begrudgingly. Tim and Mrs. Kent and Clark were the only three who _actually _wanted to put it up. Lois helped to be a good sport, and Bruce did what he could just to be helpful. Mr. Kent sat with Jason and Dick, telling him tales of when he was younger, and how he use to hunt for groundhog, and a particular tale involving gouging a critter's eyes out. 

It was blood.

It was gore.

He had their attention.

"You know I hate that story, Jonathan!" Martha finally scolded, coming from the kitchen with Christmas Cookies and chocolates. "And I hardly believe Bruce wants you telling the boys things like that."

"Oh, he doesn't mind." The older man answered, brushing his wife's words aside with a little hesitation. "They're grown boys; a little hunting story won't hurt 'em – right boys?"

Jason just smirked.

"I'm not talking about a _hunting _story. I'm talking about telling stories of how the poor thing suffered. Even if it was an accident, it's still a dreadful tale."

Lois was thankful for Martha's intervention and nodded in agreement. "It is quite horrible."

Still not convinced, Jonathan Kent defended himself. "I'm telling them _why_ I never use arrows for hunting now. You need to be for a gun too, but with a gun it's easier to put them out of their misery quickly. An arrow sometimes doesn't get the job done so fast. A friend taught me how to use it proper, but I still don't like to go less I have a gun."

Dick was on the couch beside Jason, arms crossed, relaxed and interested in the information and stories he was getting from the man across the room. Mr. Kent never talked that much, but when he did – Dick found it enlightening. The man knew his ins and outs, and he knew his rights and wrongs. "I've always wanted to go hunting." He admitted. "I don't think I'd be good at it, but I've always wanted to try it."

Jason lightly elbowed his older brother, agreeing with the simple motion. "I bet I'd be good with the gun."

"You _both_ have never been hunting?" Jonathan Kent whistled sharply. "My, that's a shame. Tell you what, you pick a weekend to come out here, and I'll take you both hunting. Clark doesn't go much with me – it'd be nice to have somebody along for the trip."

"Me too?" Tim asked, the ornaments forgotten as he looked to be allowed. "I'll be nine soon!"

"You talk too much, Tim. You'd scare away all the animals." Jason glanced towards his guardian, hoping to get some back up assistance. "Besides, you're too young to hunt, right Dad? Aren't there laws about kids having guns when they're so young?"

Bruce had been listening to the conversation with great interest, and he had a very strong opinion about Tim going hunting. He had a very strong opinion about _any _of the boys going hunting. It was just a matter of speaking out and not offending Jonathan Kent. "Maybe you could all go camping instead of hunting."

Jason and Dick both made a face.

"That'd be an experience too." Mr. Kent agreed. "Have you three ever been camping?"

"Yeah, once when I was little." Dick answered softly, unhappy with his father's answer. "But I've never been hunting before."

"When you're living on your own, graduated from college, and responsible enough to make your own decisions, then you can go." Bruce answered. "How's that sound?"

"That's -."

"Not fair!" Jason interrupted. "Why can't we go _now_? We're not stupid. We can handle a gun as well as any other guy."

Martha was scowling at her husband, blaming him for this predicament. She began to talk with Lois about how she made the buckeye chocolates, trying her best to get other people involved so the argument taking place would be more private. "Takes a lot of time to make them – I wouldn't suggest doing it with a busy schedule."

Bruce was ignoring Dick and Jason for the time being, hoping that they could talk about the matter later. Fortunately, he got his wish. Even if the teenagers were upset, at least they weren't complaining and making a big ordeal; even Tim returning to decorating the tree once again.

The afternoon passed quickly, and dinner consisted of junk food. M and M's, Nachos, Crackers and cheese balls, pizza rolls – all sorts of goodies that made everyone happy. All three boys and Clark were in heaven, gorging. They paid no mind to what their stomachs said, or what their conscious was saying, they just ate themselves full and then some.

"Aren't we going to visit the Martins?" Clark asked while drinking his grape coke. He and the other adults were in the kitchen talking while the three boys were in the other room, playing some board game that had actually attracted their attention. "I know you guys didn't want to go last year…"

Martha and Jonathan explained that it was too far and too cold, and they were tired.

"Who are the Martins?" Lois questioned, sipping at her hot chocolate, favoring its warmth. "Friends of the family?"

"Yeah?" The reporter was quiet for a few seconds and then nodded. "They live a few miles away, it's a bit of a walk, but we use to do it each year. We'd go and they'd give us hot chocolate and show us their silo. They decorate their whole farm with lights – and I'd get to run around there. It was always fun."

"Well, why don't you go this year, honey?" Martha suggested with a smile. "Take Lois, Bruce and the boys – they'd enjoy it, I'm sure. And I'm sure the Martins would too. You know Randy couldn't come home this year, they're probably wanting for tradition."

Clark didn't seem too excited with the suggestion. He gave a lame shrugged and looked at Bruce. "How tired are you guys?"

Checking his watch, the billionaire grimaced. "Tim would make it, but we'd all suffer from him going along. He'd be tired, cold, hungry, and I'm not going to carry him there and back. So if he goes – that's your job."

"Eh."

"I can put him to bed." Bruce offered. "I'll just stay home with him, its fine."

"No." Lois put a hand on the business man's arm. "You should go with Clark and the other two. I'm sure it'd be fun. I don't especially look forward to tromping through the snow for twenty minutes or more. I can stay with Tim."

Well, there went Bruce's escape from the trip. He smiled and thanked Lois for her kindness, then said he'd just check on Tim's reaction, and if it was good – then he could go. But, if the child threw a fit then he'd have to stay. Bruce _hoped _Tim put up resistance this once. He went into the other room and sat on the couch, close to the three on the floor. "Ok, here's the deal."

"You're letting us go hunting?!" Dick asked, face lightening with the thought.

"No. You guys aren't going hunting. I'm talking about tonight. Clark wants to go on a walk to the neighbors to eat more sweets and drink hot chocolate and look at their lights. Apparently it's a big deal there or something. I dunno, we're in Kansas."

"Why can't we go hunting?" Jason asked.

"It's going to be past Tim's bedtime shortly, so Lois offered to stay behind and hang out with you and then put you to bed." Bruce waited for the explosion.

"Auntie Lois is going to play with me?"

"…Yes, and put you to bed."

"Just us two? Uncle Clark will be gone?"

Bruce just stared for a few moments. "Yes. But you still have a bedtime. At nine you're under the covers."

"How many hours do I got then?"

"Just one and a half."

Getting to his feet and going to his father, Tim took the man's wrist, looking at the watch. "How many minutes is that?"

"Just ninety."

"Ninety's a lot." Tim put his thumb in his mouth and sat beside his guardian. "I'll stay and play with Auntie Lois then."

Pulling on the boy's arm, forcing Tim's thumb away, Bruce unhappily sighed. "Don't suck your thumb." He got up and went back into the kitchen, finding everyone still talking. "I guess we're going then."

* * *

"It's so awesome out here." Clark had said that line at least three times now, but nobody really minded it. It wasn't like he was lying. Walking on a winter night, through the falling snow, everything so white and so bright that it glowed – it was a sight to behold. It was just acres upon acres of snow, empty fields, small lines of leafless trees, all covered in white. 

Martha Kent had sent them off with hot chocolate in a mug to share, and then the Martin's Christmas gift. Jason hadn't offered to carry anything, but as it became colder, he took the mug of warm liquid, happy to heat his hands with it. "Hey, Daaad?"

Bruce was trying not to show how cold he was and enjoy this time, because it was rare. Christmas in Kansas, on a farm, didn't come often. "Yeah?"

"When we get back to the house, can we call Alfred?"

"Of course." The billionaire smiled at the question. He missed the butler more than he realized, and sometimes it hit him harder than others. It was always tough without Alfred, in a lot of ways. "I bet he'd be happy to hear from you boys."

"I bet he's having fun though."

"I hope he's having a good time, but that doesn't mean he doesn't miss you any less."

Jason was quiet, pleased with what Bruce had said. "So, why aren't you going to let us go hunting? Because, I think we're capable to handle a gun. I know girls in my class who go hunting all the time, Dad. It's not like it'd be dangerous."

And they were back to this argument. Bruce hadn't wanted to talk about this. It wasn't something he was going to enjoy. "Jason. I've never approved of guns. They're dangerous. Using them is dangerous. People have died on hunting trips because things happen. Accidents happen. Having guns in an accident prone world just doesn't make sense to me. So, no, I don't want you to go hunting."

"Well, what about going with a bow – Grandpa Kent said that -."

"I heard what he said, and he said he doesn't use those anymore. I trust his judgment, so I too am going to say 'no'."

"You just don't want us to go."

Bruce said nothing, glancing at Dick who was walking beside him. The teenager was staring at the ground, appearing to be in thought.

Jason continued speaking, taking his father's silence the wrong way. "I mean, I understand that your parents were killed with a gun – but that doesn't mean that you should hold such a bit grudge that-."

This was unexpected. Bruce stopped in his tracks and turned to face the complaining teenager. Clark had froze, seeing that this was going to be awkward, and tried to keep walking then, like Bruce hadn't just freaked out.

"Jason. I don't want you to go, not because of a 'grudge', but because people _die_ when guns are used. I won't explain myself again. _No_. I won't give the 'ok' for you to use a gun and have that chance to hurt yourself or others with it. Do you understand? Hey. _Look_ at me."

Jason lifted his head, eyes narrowed.

"Do you understand?"

"_Yeah_, loud and _clear_." He wasn't happy.

They continued walking, and Jason shoved the canister of hot chocolate to Dick, snapping that he wasn't going to carry it the whole way. And when Clark tried to talk to him, he just snorted or muttered something in reply – never a real answer. Bruce just let it go, figuring the child would get over it. Life would go on, as Jason would discover.

They came to the Martins and talked with the family. They were shown around the property and viewed the many lights strung all about. It was quite the sight. And then, twenty minutes later, began their trek back home.

They were just half a mile away when Dick shrieked out in pain and jerked his foot up, stumbling back and falling down into the snow. "OW! _SHIT_! OW! OW!"

"Dick?!" Clark turned to see what the matter was, scared by the noise. "What happened?"

Bruce was already beside the boy, kneeling in the snow. He moved over, looking at the boy's foot and finding the cause of pain. A piece of wire – right through the shoe. It was pretty impressive. "How deep do you think it is, Dick?"

He shook his head, calming down from the initial surprise. "I dunno – feels deep. Don't touch it, Dad! _STOP! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!_"

"We're going to have to pull it out."

Jason was staring down at the mess in disbelief. "How did it go through your shoe?! How does that happen?"

Bruce was untying Dick's shoe all the way down, taking out the shoelace. He acted busy, but in an instant switched tasks, pulling out the wire with a sharp jerk. Dick yelped again, surprised and hurt. He fell on his back now, biting his hand and closing his eyes.

"I think you killed him."

"Jason, why don't you run home and get Dick some warm clothes ready?" Clark suggested, seeing that the teen wasn't going to be of much help here. "He'll be wet by the time we get back – lying in the snow like this."

Bruce was checking Dick's foot, finding the bleeding to be bad, but not too bad. "You're ok, chum."

The teenager slowly nodded and took his guardian's hand, accepting the help getting back to his feet. He put all his weight on his other leg, not willing to test to wounded foot quite yet. "Geesh."

"Believe it or not, that's happened to me before."

Everyone turned to look at Clark, not amused with his revelation. Jason quirked an eyebrow, actually amused more than anything else. "So this is one of the dangers of living in the country? Stepping on wires?"

Crouching down and digging out the wire, the reporter held it up. "Barbed wire, it's old and probably been here for a few years. This use to be a split land, not just one field, meaning a fence was between the areas. No doubt they got lazy while taking down the fence."

"And when planting and harvesting, they didn't notice?"

"They tore up the fence, clearly. This is just a small part." Bruce answered for Clark, wanting to get back to the house and bandage Dick up so he could get to work. He had to still put out all the boy's presents, something that would take awhile. Maybe he'd make Jason and Dick help him out. "We need to get back to the house, it's getting late and I want to make sure Tim's doing ok."

Jason rolled his eyes and went over to Dick, a teasing look, clearly planning to be bothersome in one way or another. "I'll be your crutch, Dickie."

"What makes you think I need _your_ help."

Bruce and Clark were watching, waiting to head on back. They would have moved on, but neither knew if Dick did or didn't need assistance.

"Well, it's a long way back, and I care about you."

"It's a long way back, and I'll walk myself." Dick answered, laughing at Jason. He began to limp alongside his brother, and for awhile did pretty well. It wasn't till they were a quarter mile away that he accepted Jason's help, holding onto his upper arm or shoulder for support.

Bruce was pleased, once they got back into the house, to find Tim nowhere in sight. He hung up his coat and began to go search for bandages when a shriek caught his ear and turned his attention elsewhere.

"Daddy's home!"

"Tim – _no_!" Lois didn't sound happy.

Coming out of the hall and towards the staircase, Bruce gave a deep frown as Tim bounded down the steps, launching himself at his father. The billionaire caught him with mild ease and quickly set him down. "What are you doing out of bed? Why aren't you listening to Lois? I heard her tell you _no_."

Tim clearly hadn't been expecting to be in trouble. He hung his head and fell silent. Lois caught up and quickly began apologizing, saying it was her fault and that Tim was just excited about it being Christmas Eve. "He just wanted you to say goodnight to him. I told him that when you came home I'd send you up … but then he heard the door open and got excited. It's not his fault. Not really."

"What do you say to Lois, Timothy?"

"…I love you, Auntie Lois."

"Not what I'm looking for, Timothy." Bruce said. "What do you say to Lois for not doing what she said?"

"Sorry."

"And what do you say to her, for being so nice to you and watching you?"

Tim slowly looked at Bruce, confused but willing to please. He didn't want to cause any problems that would lead towards him getting into trouble. The eight-year-old just wanted things to go right at this point. "Thank you?"

Bruce raised his eyebrows. "Ok, then lets get you upstairs and into bed. Say goodnight to everyone." He grabbed the child's hand only to have Tim pull away and run over to Clark.

"Goodnight, Uncle Clark!" Tim about yelled. He wrapped his arms as far as they would go around the man, and then moved over to Lois. Looking up at the woman, clearly loving her for being so nice to him, and loving her because she was the closest thing to a mother he'd ever known, the child hugged her all the more. "Goodnight."

She moved eyelevel and kissed the boy's cheek. "I love you too, Tim. I'll see you tomorrow, ok?"

"Well, if I die, I'll know who to give Tim to." Bruce remarked, smiling as he lifted the eight-year-old up and began to head upstairs.

"That's not funny, Bruce."

Martha and Jonathan were watching television in the other room, smiling up when Dick, Clark, Jason, and Lois came on in. Lois was asking about Dick's foot, trying to help. Dick didn't enjoy the attention, stating it was fine, and that he just wanted to sit down. He and Jason kept quiet, never finding the right things to say when Mr. and Mrs. Kent were up and in the conversation. It was always a little awkward for both boys.

Bruce came down fifteen minutes later and sat down beside Dick and Jason, on the couch. There, the conversation turned to him. _Did Tim fall asleep?_ _Was he tired?_ Things of that nature. Boring things, for Jason and Dick.

The two sat for awhile until finally Jason got to his feet. "I think I'll go to bed. I'm tired."

Everyone just stared at him for a few seconds, and then the goodnights began. Lois and Martha wanted a kiss, in the middle of which Dick declared that he too was tired, and goodnight. This called for another harrumph of goodnights and more kisses.

"Don't wake Tim." Bruce warned the two.

"Yeah."

"Night."

* * *

Dick pulled off his shirt, quickly changing into his pajamas. It was still as cold as could be in the Kent's farmhouse, and he was wise enough to know more clothes meant more warmth. So, he pulled on socks and a sweatshirt, feeling rather dumb, but not caring because it was too chilly to really care. Besides, who would see him? Jason and Tim – that was it. He glanced up and down the hall before dashing over to the bathroom where he found Jason brushing his teeth. 

Doing a foot to foot dance, stomping away the cold, moving away the chill, Dick rubbed his arms and gave a frantic look. "It's so _cold_!"

Jason lifted his head, mouth covered in foam from the toothpaste, and expression showing he was curious but not intrigued. "Ga'nouf close on?" He gurgled.

"I said I was _cold_, didn' I?" Dick stopped moving long enough to get his toothbrush ready, and then followed his brother in the motion. He watched himself in the mirror, occasionally glancing at Jason, but mostly focusing on his own reflection. He compared his features to his brother's, educated enough to know that there would be no resemblances, but not ashamed to search anyhow.

They really didn't look alike. Their frame, their face, and their skin … the only thing was their hair and eye color, which was enough for strangers to just assume away.

Jason spit into the skink and bent down, drinking from the faucet without shame. He gulped, thirsty and wise enough to know to drink his fill before bed, or he'd wake with a dry mouth. "Are they still downstairs talking?"

Dick nodded, continuing to brush his teeth.

Jason lingered, leaning against the sink and thinking about things. "I don't want to go to bed. I don't think I'll be able to go to bed." He admitted truthfully. He looked up at Dick, smiling now. "And I'm fifteen!"

The gypsy removed his toothbrush spit into the sink. "You're excited?"

"I didn't say that."

"Sure you didn't. …You're excited."

"And you look rabid."

Rinsing out and taking a drink, Dick turned off the bathroom light on his brother and dashed down the hall, hurrying to the room. He climbed up to the top bunk and planted himself, Indian style, facing the doorway, smiling when Jason entered the room.

"You're so dumb. Doesn't your foot hurt or something?" Jason began to change into pajamas, pulling them out of his suitcase, not even bothering to think how they had gotten back in there.

"Yeah, I'm just not a whiner."

"So, what do you think you got?"

"How would I know."

"Well, what _did_ you ask for?"

It was a game they played each year, and each year it altered a little bit. When they were young it was a game of: what do you want, why do you want it, and how sure are you that you'll get it. Now it was just: I asked for this. End of story. Dick wrapped his comforter around his shoulders, shivering under it, whispering so he wouldn't wake Tim. "I didn't ask for much of anything. Alfred usually knows what to get me. I said money was fine."

"Alfred never gives us money for Christmas."

"Well, I could use it."

Jason smiled and tossed his dirty clothes where Dick had dropped his. He then stared at the bottom bunk, seeing Tim lying there. A slow frown came across his face. "You know what I asked for?"

"What?"

"Diapers for Tim."

Dick began to laugh at that, half the time his voice was unsure of itself, so the sound was a bit adult and a bit child. It was never something to be proud of, for anyone, and if anyone had been around, Dick would have minded. But Jason paid it no mind at this point.

"No, seriously. That, or a lock for my door, so Tim can't come in and sleep with me."

"Yeah, I could use that too."

"I think we all could."

"Sucks for him though, he's eight." Dick pointed out, more understanding then his younger brother at times. "Alfred said he can't help it."

Jason nodded. "I know! That's why we need something to help him out. I asked for other stuff too. Do you want to hear them?" Jason took his pillow from the bottom bunk and began to climb up to where Dick sat atop.

"_You _aren't sleeping up here!"

"I can't talk to you from down _there_. I'll just talk and then go back down."

"Then why do you have to bring your pillow up?"

Jason rolled his eyes and climbed up nevertheless. "You're so unthoughtful. And here, you were on my Christmas list."

Dick had been planning to correct Jason, explaining that unthoughtful wasn't a word at all, but his brother's words switched that around. "You asked for me for Christmas?"

Silence, and then the two began to laugh, even though it wasn't funny. It was just dumb.

"_No_. I asked for a shiny new protractor. You like math, and I thought your current one was kind of dull. I know how you like your math supplies to shine." Jason explained, snickering between words.

"You're an asshole."

"I asked for a girlfriend for Dad, because I figure if anything's going to help him out, it'd be that. And I don't mean some _girl_, 'cause he has a bunch of those-."

"The bastard." Dick joked.

"I asked for a serious girlfriend."

Dick lied down, looking up at the ceiling and sighing. "He has a serious girlfriend though, but it doesn't help. I think he just hates people all together."

"I know he hates you."

"No you don't. He told me, personally, that he hated you, though."

"Really. 'Cause he told me the same thing about you. Said he hated you and whatever brought you into this world."

"Fine. He hates us both. Fair?"

Jason shook his head, disagreeing.

Dick ignored it, going back to their prior conversation. "Do you like Selina?"

"Do I like Selina?" Now Jason made a face. "I don't know – why shouldn't I like Selina? She's hot."

"I dunno … I just was wondering. I mean, she's ok – she's sort of annoying at times. I don't think I could ever date somebody who is so … confident? I mean, when she's around us, it all seems like such an act." Dick shrugged his shoulders, not really caring and knowing Jason wasn't even listening. He knew his brother far too well to assume that the other boy was paying attention. "I like Lois though."

"Everybody likes Lois." Jason answered. "That's why Clark is dating her. He's the perfect guy, and she's the perfect girl. I'd hate to meet their children."

"What did you really ask for?"

Slowly becoming tired, Jason leaned against the wall. "I dunno, stuff. Alfred's pretty good at just knowing what I want most of the time. I know Tim asked for a bunch of shit. Though, he doesn't realize Santa's not real, so he thinks Santa's doing all this for him. Remember when I told you that there was no Santa?" Jason started laughing, giggling at the memory. "You were so upset – you were all crying and shit! And you went to Dad was he was like: 'No, Dick, Santa's not real.' And you kept asking questions, like maybe he was lying to you. 'But how do all the presents come?'"

"I was nine."

"I can't believe you thought Santa was real."

"I can't believe you didn't think Santa was real."

"Well, I use to, and I hated his guts. He never brought me any shit. My dad use to tell me it was because I was bad, but then my mom finally told me it was because we were poor and Santa was fake. But then she bought Dad gifts. Each year he got a case of beer. I think she felt bad for me though." He was quiet for a moment, then started blushing, realizing he had said so much. "Not a lot of kids from where I grew up believed in Santa, only the dumb-ass ones, like you."

"When my mom and dad were alive, I didn't like Santa either. I never got many presents. My Dad told me it was because Santa knew I was so good. He said that Santa only has a few gifts, and he knew I was brave enough to have less things than other kids. I always was really proud of that, and then I moved in with Dad and Alfred after they died, and I got all these gifts. I thought Santa felt sorry for me, since my parents died, and it was his way of saying: 'I'm sorry.'" Dick yawned and closed his eyes, thinking about the many memories. "Then you ruined it for me the next year."

Jason just smiled, tired now.

* * *

"Well, darling, I think I'm going to turn in for the night. I'm just tuckered out … do me a favor and tap pa, tell him to wake up so he can sleep like a normal person." Martha Kent rose from the couch and smiled at her guests, but spoke to her son. "You all know where the food's at – if you see anything you like, help yourself." 

Clark reached over and gently shook his father awake, laughing as he told him that 'ma' said to get up and go to sleep.

"Yes, well." The older man answered, getting to his feet and looking at his wife who was walking down the hall. "I suppose I'll see you all in the morning."

Bruce watched, interested, as the husband caught up to his wife and took her hand like it was just the way things were. It was so rare for him to see that, like that. Two people, married for years, holding hands on their way down the hall? The billionaire wondered if that was what Clark and Lois would be like … he figured so, with Clark. That man was as foreign as it got to Bruce, but then again he wasn't from Gotham or Metropolis, his home had been a small town in the middle of no where. Things were different.

"So, Bruce, what do you feel like talking about now?" Lois asked with a flash across her eyes that told Bruce she was teasing. "You're a single, handsome, rich man … what do you have to talk about?"

He smiled at her words. "Right, off the record I suppose? Or is this an interview in disguise."

"Depends how juicy the gossip is, Mr. Wayne." She turned to Clark. "You do realize that Perry is going to have a fit when he finds out we spent the holidays with Bruce Wayne and didn't get a single paragraph out of it."

"Hey, I'm taking notes." The man beside her answered with a small half smile towards Bruce. "I'm not much of a photographer, but I figure anything is better than nothing."

"Amusing."

Lois giggled and pushed off the couch, moving away from Clark and towards the kitchen. "I'm making some hot chocolate for myself, boys – can I tempt you either of you to join me? How about it Bruce, you want some hot chocolate?"

Shaking his head, Bruce didn't find that appealing at the moment. Though, then again it was the Christmas season – he should try to get in tune with the idea. "I'm not a big chocolate fan."

"Shocking."

"I'll take one, Lois." Clark called out.

Lois nodded. "So, that'll be three hot chocolates with a bit of mint? Don't look at me like that Bruce, you can suffer a sip."

"Nice alliteration, are you thinking of how to word the article?" Bruce mocked, which got a laugh out of Clark and a scoff out of Lois. He watched as she disappeared into the kitchen and heaved a sigh. He was getting tired himself, and drinking chocolate wasn't going to help that idea. It'd probably wake him up all the more.

There was a sound of static as Clark clicked the channel changer and turned on the television set. It got a flinch out of Bruce once the noise began and he glanced around.

"Isn't that a bit loud?" Lois called out from the kitchen. "Turn it down, Clark! Your parents and the boys are sleeping, for heaven's sake."

"I didn't realize the volume was up so loud!"

"You might as well be sweeping, with all that noise."

The television went right off and Clark appeared to be a bit ashamed by the noise, like Bruce was going to be mad. "Sorry." He said. "Didn't think it'd be turned up so loud. Think it woke anyone up?"

"You're fine."

"Oh, it's Christmas Eve. How do you feel about that? Are you … Bruce," his tone turned to teasing as a smile crept across his face. "Bruce, are you excited? You're just all a twitter, aren't you?"

This earned silence from the billionaire. He just stared at Clark, an expression that told the reporter _exactly_ what he thought.

"Yeah, ok. Sorry."

"We need to bring all the gifts in." Bruce stated, matter of fact, but not wanting to go out into the cold and complete the task. He was thankful that Clark was still up, thankful that Clark was nice enough to help, if prodded.

And Clark never really needed prodding. "We should get started, that way we'll have warm chocolate drinks waiting for us when we're done."

The two told Lois what they were doing and took Jonathan's truck down to the barn, where all the presents were hidden and stored. Tied up in large garbage bags. Bruce didn't say much of anything, he mostly just listened to Clark, who talked about past Christmas', and how things were in Kansas come Christmas time. It was all interesting, in some ways, interesting because Clark loved telling the stories. It was clear he loved his home and everything about it. So, even when the stories themselves were dull and boring, Bruce still listened.

"What was Christmas like for you?" Clark was on a ladder, bringing down a plastic bin of gifts, followed by Bruce who carried another. "Back in Gotham."

"Busy."

"I guess there'd be a lot of social events."

"Alfred never made me go."

Clark paced across the barn, putting the bin in the truck bed. "Then what was busy about it?"

"I'd go anyways." Bruce didn't smile, but he had a hint of amusement in his voice. "Christmas wasn't anything, Clark. It was just another holiday, like Thanksgiving or the Fourth of July. There are times it's still like that. Most of the times its still like that."

It wasn't a pleasant answer, but the farm boy didn't push. He knew city life and he knew rural life, there was a huge difference. And between him and Bruce, sometimes the differences seemed so vast. It was a lonely thought. "Well, the boys have to make it mean a little something more. I know an excited kid makes things more fun. I mean, just watching Tim -." He laughed and began to climb back up the ladder. "It's fun."

"Yes."

They finished the work, making three trips, and on the final drive back, Clark put on the radio, singing to Christmas carols, and Bruce didn't mind. They got back into the house, put the final touches under the tree, and shuffled into the kitchen where Lois was sitting at the table, head down, sleeping. Three mugs of hot chocolate waiting.

"God." Clark stated, staring. "I love her."

"I think I'm going to go check on Tim real quick. I'll be right back."

Clark moved toward his girlfriend, nodding at Bruce. "I guess I'll wake her up. See how tired she really is."

The billionaire made his way upstairs, listening as Clark woke Lois and laughed at her sleepy expression. There was a bit of jealousy somewhere inside, and Bruce knew it. If there hadn't been, he would have stayed, but he couldn't. He was jealous of what Clark had. He was jealous because his best friend was in love with a woman who loved him back unconditionally. It wasn't fair.

Why couldn't Bruce find that?

And why did Christmas always make that feeling so much worse? Why did Christmas make him want to be with somebody all the more? He just felt so empty at times, and things became worse watching Clark and Lois in love. Especially now, Christmas Eve night, without anybody else around.

Bruce wanted Alfred to talk to him. He missed the butler. Alfred always had a way of knowing what was eating at Bruce and how to make it a little better. Never _all_ better, but a little. It was strange how that worked.

Pushing open the boy's bedroom door, Bruce entered; the light from the bathroom illuminating things well enough to see. He was a bit surprised to find Tim alone in the bottom bunk, and for a second thought that Dick and Jason hadn't gone to bed at all, but in a glance found that not to be the case. They were both up top, Jason looking rather uncomfortable and squished, leaning against the wall, apparently having fallen asleep in such a position. Dick, on the other hand, was fast asleep, taking up as much room as possible.

"Jason?" Bruce approached the bed, putting a hand on the mattress and glancing at Dick as the boy shifted. "_Jason_." He said softly, like it would help.

Dick's eyes slowly opened and closed, then opened again. He stared at his guardian, silent.

"Sorry to wake you, chum."

Dick still gave no real communication. He closed his eyes again and turned his head, hiding his face in the pillow, as if offended by Bruce.

"Jason?" Bruce reached out and pressed a hand against the middle child's leg, giving a small shake. He watched Jason jerk awake and eyes fly open.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong." The Gothamite answered. "You're just asleep in a very poor position. Why don't you climb down and get in bed?"

"Tim wets the bed."

"And you have no room sleeping up there."

Jason nodded, agreeing with that, but he made no movement. "Make Dick make room."

"I can't make Dick make room. It's his turn for the top bunk. You could _ask_ Dick to make room." Bruce doubted that would go well, seeing that Dick clearly was tired and in no mood to be bothered.

Jason kicked out, hitting his older brother's legs and grunting. "_Move_. Dad said you had to."

Dick made a noise in his throat and rolled over a bit, making hardly enough room. "Go _away_!"

"Night."

Bruce nodded, watching Jason force his way to lie down, pushing Dick over, which only got the other teenager upset. "Goodnight. I'll see you both in the morning."

"Dad?" It was Dick's voice, and he sounded far away.

"Huh?"

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing's the matter. I just wanted to say goodnight."

That was hard to believe for the gypsy, and he was much too tired to think about all the ways that didn't make sense. It was late, he was half asleep, and yet something wasn't clicking here. "You promise?"

"Yeah. I promise."

"You don't lie, you know." The voice was a whisper, hardly audible above Jason's now heavy breathing. "You don't lie to me, Dad. Right?"

Bruce nodded. "I don't lie to you, Dick. Don't worry, go to bed, you're tired. Sleep."

"I can't sleep."

"Yes you can. You're almost asleep now. You were asleep when I came in." Bruce made a face and shook his head. "Now you're lying to me."

"No I'm not. I can't sleep. Tell me the truth." Dick slowly sat up, wavering this way and that, not dizzy, just out of it. He quickly steadied himself and took in a deep breath, forcing his brain awake. "I'm not dumb."

"No you're not." That was undeniable.

"So then tell me."

"…Clark and Lois were having a moment downstairs, and I didn't want to get in their way." Bruce replied, resting his arms on the guard rail of the top bunk. "There's nothing wrong, why are you so concerned that something _would_ be wrong?"

"Because it's Christmas Eve, and sometimes you get sad on Christmas Eve."

"I'm not sad." Bruce whispered.

"But you get sad most of the time during Christmas. I hear Alfred talk, and you get weird."

It couldn't be helped, Bruce had to state the obvious, not really thinking about the possibility that his words might offend or hurt. "You're a teenager; you're not supposed to act like this concerning your parents. You're supposed to be like that." He nodded towards Jason, who was sleeping soundly. A small smirk grew. "Even if you are worried, aren't you supposed to keep quiet?"

That didn't faze Dick in the least. "You're not like most parents. You're my best friend too."

"Go to sleep, Dick. I'll see you in the morning."

"Dad, you know there are tons of girls who like you."

Ok, this conversation had gone too far. Talking about his relationship trouble with his teenage son wasn't really something Bruce considered good. Well, it _was_ good to talk with Dick, but this was just … no, this is what Alfred and Clark were for. "I know, Dick. And I'm not worried about girls not liking me. Go. To. Bed."

"Night dad, love you."

Bruce shut the door, muttering his reply.

_To Be Continued…_


	11. Chapter 11

_**You Do Good, You Find Good**_

**By: **The BatThing

**Chapter Eleven:**

It was an unexpected and totally unwelcome startle. From sleep to alert, there was no in-between, but there never usually was for Jason Todd. He sat up, pushing away Dick's arm, which had been in the way, and wondered amid different possibilities_: why had he woken up_?

Burbling a bit, mostly to himself because nobody else was listening, Jason clambered over Dick, an action which received its full share of grumbled, grunts, and groans, and finally a spirited: "_GET AWAY FROM ME_!"

"Not my fault." Jason whispered, which only fell upon deaf ears, as Dick was fast asleep once again. He was about to head down the ladder when something green caught his attention at the foot of Dick and his bed. Two elegant stockings sat there, just waiting. The teenager stared for a moment, confused as to what was going on and then returned to his original place, grabbing the stocking and just staring at it. "Dick." He whispered.

Dick just rolled over and whined loudly, like he were a child. Jason found that always to be annoying, but today he ignored it, for the sake of time. "Dick – look."

He suddenly heard movement below as Tim woke up to the voices. It didn't take any time for the eight-year-old to shriek out. "I don't believe my own two eyes! LOOK! JASON! I GOT'A STOCKING! HOW DID SANTA KNOW?!?!"

Tim slid from his bed, stocking close, and sat on the floor, dumping out all the things inside. Candy, small toys, wrapped packages, all came out. Tim began ripping open the small gifts and about shrieked when he found a GameBoy in one. "I KNEW IT! LOOK JAYS! It's the newest GameBoy out! Look at it, it's the DS! And look! I got games for it and everything!" Tim put in a game and turned the object on, engulfed in his new toy. He was surrounded by chocolates, small GI Joes, even a DVD was in there, Pokemon Dimond and Pokemon Pearl, Jenga, Bee Movie Game, and a bunch of other gameboy games.

Jason timidly began to go through his own, but finally dumping the insides all out in front of him. Candy Canes, chocolates, fancy candies, a DVD, his own Gameboy DS. He had four games: Zelda Phantom Hourglass, Mario Party, Master of Illusion, and Need for Speed ProStreet. There was another gift, and Jason ripped off the wrapping paper while eating a caramel chocolate. As soon as the paper was off he knew what it was, he was just having a hard time believing it! "An iPhone! Shit! Dad got me an iPhone!"

"I got an iPod touch." Tim said, holding up the box.

"Yeah, no eight-year-old needs that. That's a sign you're a spoiled brat."

Tim didn't care, he continued to play his games.

"Dick! Wake up and see what you got!!" Jason unwrapped another chocolate and laughed as his brother groaned and covered his ears. "Seriously, the stocking is awesome – and that's just the start of what we got!"

"Sounds like you guys are up!" The door opened and Clark entered, all smiles, holding a tray of cookies. "And look what I stole from the kitchen! Hmm! Come, come! Breakfast is ready and waiting, as are … presents!"

Tim bolted out of the room, his gameboy forgotten. There were more presents to open – he had things to do.

"Dick's sorta' hard to wake up." Jason explained to Clark. "It's when his worst shows, if you know what I mean."

Clark nodded, understanding that. "I've witnessed the evil of a slumbering Dick – I say we let him stay be and go downstairs for the amazing array of donuts. You've never seen so many pastries!"

Jason smiled and climbed over Dick, earning a swat, and then followed his uncle out of the room. They came into the kitchen, finding everyone laughing at Tim's excitement.

"I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU GOT ME ALL THOSE GAMES DAD! I LOVE MY NEW GAMEBOY! IT'S SO COOL!" He jumped up and down and up and down, hugging his guardian with joy. "Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!"

"Thank Alfred too, he helped with all of your gifts."

Tim nodded, all smiles. "Thanks to him, to grandma and grandpa Kent, to Auntie Lois, to Uncle Clark, to the neighbors – thank you for Christmas!! Thank GOD for making CHRISTMAS!"

"Ok, ok, calm down and try to eat some breakfast." Bruce ordered, smiling slightly. He spotted Jason and smiled at his middle child. "I take it Dick isn't ready to greet the day, huh?"

"Far from it." Jason rubbed his head and awkwardly went over to his dad. "The iPhone was awesome. I didn't think you'd get it for me, I didn't think you guys would really! I mean, I just figured the gameboy but then …" He smiled. "It rocks, Dad. Definitely the best stocking of my lifetime."

Bruce rubbed the teenager's head and then checked his watch. "I'm going to go wake the beast." He said with a sigh.

Jason slid onto a chair by Tim and Aunt Lois, and began to fill his plate with chocolate donut holes, and other treats. He watched his guardian leave the room and smiled at his aunt. "This is going to go badly."

"It's Christmas. Won't Dick be happy?"

"It don't matter what it is. He don't ever wanna' be woken up."

* * *

"Time to get up, chum – people are waiting to open gifts, and you're holding them back. I think Timmy's about ready to burst if we don't' hurry." Bruce peered at his eldest and waited, seeing that his words had zero affect on the boy. Dick just grunted and gave Bruce his back, muttering a 'go away'.

"Not today, kid – come on. Up. I don't ask twice." He stepped back and gave his hands a loud clap. "_NOW_."

Dick sat up, glaring, steaming, fuming, upset that he had to wake up and move. He gave the dirtiest look he could muster to his guardian and then began to crawl down the ladder, muttering things under his breath.

"That's my sixteen year old, showing how mature he's coming along! I'm so proud of him." Bruce was sarcastic, eyebrow quirked as he waited for Dick to realize how poorly he was behaving. "Waking up isn't the hardest thing you have to do all day, chum."

"No, but it hurts." Dick whispered, slouched over and giving his head a shake. He gave Bruce another glare and sighed. "What?!"

"Well, you're going to go downstairs now and eat breakfast that Martha Kent put together for all of us. You're going to stop glaring, and start being pleasant. Come on."

The two went down the hall, Dick's feet dragging and his head hanging – he was honestly tired. They came to the kitchen and Dick took a seat at the table, by Bruce, and watched his plate get passed to Lois, who put eggs, bacon, donut holes, and sausage on it. She passed it back. Dick just stared at the food.

Everyone ate, listening to Tim go on and on about his gameboy, and how they needed to go open the rest of the gifts that Santa had brought him. He had seen how many there were, and he kept gasping about it. "I don't believe Santa's soo cool!"

Dick took a drink from his grape juice and glanced up at Bruce who was eating in silence, listening occasionally, but saying nothing. "When'd you do it?"

"Do what?"

The sixteen year old just stared, unamused.

"I didn't do anything." He answered, nibbling on a jammed piece of toast. "Don't ruin it for Timmy."

"Hhhhhhh." A long sigh that wasn't necessary, but Dick gave it, slouching all the more and glaring at the table. He felt himself slowly waking up as the minutes wore on, and slowly joined the conversation, laughing finally, and even getting into a foot fight with Jason under the table.

"OUCH!" Lois gasped, having gotten a good kick by accident. And the game was over much too soon.

* * *

Jason and Dick sat, side by side, on the couch, waiting for everyone else. Tim and Clark continued their chatter. The two teenagers were above the playful 'guessing what's inside the present' game, and rather just managed a boring conversation between each other. It was mostly filled with side comments, jokes, random stories about kids back at school, and other such things.

"I'm not saying that she's not pretty, because she is – everybody can see that. She's hot. Buuut, she's just such a … hoar."

"She likes you." Jason said, bored of the gossip. He never cared for Ellen Parbrady, but she made for a short discussion. Gotham Heights didn't have a large share of girls like her.

"Noooo."

"That's what she told me the other week. She asked me if you had a girlfriend and stuff." Jason began to bite a nail, making an annoying clicking sound as it hit his teeth. "Now I ain't sayin' she a golddigger. But she ain't messin' with no broke nigga'."

"What?"

"Golddigger – the song?"

"Jason, I'm white." The way he said it sounded like he truly thought Jason needed that clarification. Like maybe the other teenager was really confused.

"Huuhhhhnn." The both laughed about that for awhile and then returned to their bored sitting. They did nothing for a short while in silence, thinking about the previous conversation and what to do next, when Jason spoke again, a smile on his face. "You wanna' make ten bucks?"

Dick lifted his eyebrows. "For what?"

"Go up to Dad and just be like: _What up, nigga'?_ That's all you gotta do, and then just walk away. I'd be priceless, he'd be in such a shock he'd think he'd of misheard you."

The two laughed at the mental picture they both got and began to urge each other to do it, though both refused to mess around with that sort of trouble. Though, at the same time, neither knew how their guardian would react to such a thing, so it made it all the more hilarious.

"Wha's so funny?" Tim questioned, looking up from a present.

"Your mom."

Clark gave Jason a reproachful look, unsure of how to counterattack that. He was always so confused on whether or not they were playfully joking or just being mean. It was hard to tell with teenagers, especially when one of the teenagers was usually mean.

Tim ignored the comment, accustom to it, and gave his box another shake before putting it down and glancing towards the door. "When are we going to open gifts?! We've been waiting!"

"Oh. You poor thing. Have you been waiting?" Jason tisked. "How you suffer. Imagine, waiting to open a gift! I mean, I'm glad you put things in perspective for me. There's starvation, hunger, abuse, and then there's your lack of patience for playing with your toys."

"You're being an ass." The eight-year-old finally snapped, turning to look at his older brother bitterly. He rose to his feet and stomped out of the room, obviously going to find his father and put in a verbal complaint over the matter. Timothy Drake was not one for letting wrong go untattled.

"You shouldn't be so mean to him, Jason."

"Clark, he's a big baby. Right now, I can tell you with great certainty that he's goin' to tell on me. It's what he does. He whines. And what I do is try and make him realize that it's not ok. He won't survive unless I do something about it."

Dick rolled his eyes at the little speech. "Thank God for you."

"I know. You guys really aren't thankful enough."

"This coming from the guy that watches Pigglywinks before school each morning."

Clark felt dumb now, sitting by the presents. He followed Tim's tracks and found him telling Bruce what had happened, sounding upset and annoyed, but it was clear his guardian didn't really care. "Are we about ready, Ma?"

"Clark!" Lois scolded. "You're a grown man. I think you can wait to open presents."

"Yeah, but I don't think Timmy can."

His declaration got everyone to make their way into the Family room to celebrate Christmas all the more. The whole event of unwrapping gifts made feelings change for the better. Tim wasn't the only excited one of the bunch. Even though they were well equipped at hiding how they were feeling, Jason and Dick both were pleased. Presents were always welcome, especially when they discovered gifts of latest technology, games, sporting goods, DVDs, clothing, and other such things.

Clark seemed happy, but his mother kept asking what the matter was – didn't he like his gifts. He'd just nod and laugh, as if nothing were wrong. And to most of the group gathered about, they didn't take notice of anything. Clark was a little tired, maybe. It didn't matter, not really. Too much was going on to notice until, half way through, the Metropolis reporter jumped up and declared that he had something to say. "I'm sorry, I just … I have to get this over with, off my chest. I dunno, it's eating at me. I'm happy, but I'm just really …" He paused and gave his head a shake.

"Honey, what's the matter?" Martha questioned. "You can tell us."

"The problem is that I'm in love with Lois." He began, turning to face the woman he had been with so long. "And, I dunno, it might be a stupid thing to do, but … I love you, Lois, and I was going to wait till we were all done, but it's Christmas, and I want to just stop being so nervous and stressed and do this."

Lois was in shock.

"I did have this great plan to make it more romantic, but then I just …" He gave his head yet another shake and walked over to her, going down to a knee and pulling out a little black box. "We've talked about it every now and then, imagined what it would be like. I kept trying to figure out if you'd say yes, so I won't ruin what we already have. But then I think that what we have is so great, that even if you say no, it won't really matter. I can wait."

Now she was smiling, covering her mouth.

"Lois, will you marry me?"

"YES!" She shrieked, throwing her arms around his neck and causing him to tumble back, dragging her down with him. Lois wasn't shy about kissing him right then and there, because she was so happy she couldn't, and shouldn't have to, contain it. "I love you." A whisper.

Jason and Tim were hiding their faces.

Martha was squealing.

Jonathan looked so proud he could burst.

Dick had a smile on, happy for the couple, but still finding the kissing and romance part a bit over done and stupid. He was just old enough not to follow Tim and Jason's reaction.

"Congratulations." Bruce said, unsure what else to say or do.

Clark pulled his fiancée up and smiled so much it hurt as he slipped on her ring. Lois let a few tears go, unable to stop the overflow of emotion she was feeling. "I'm so lucky you're mine." The tall figure whispered in her ear, brushing a kiss on her cheek.

"So, this put an unexpected stop in what we were doing."

"You can still unwrap your gifts."

"Well, I suppose, but it seems sort of weird to do it with the entire household of Kent's in the kitchen, calling their family. I dunno." Jason heaved a sigh. "I don't care that much."

Bruce wasn't fooled.

"Let's give dad his gift!" Tim exclaimed, jumping up and down and then grabbing Dick by the wrist so hard it almost hurt. "Can we, Dick? Can we?"

"Oh god." Jason murmured, rolling his eyes. "I've been dreading this moment."

"Shut up."

"Well, if we had agreed on a present all together I wouldn't be so upset. And Dad, just so you know, I wanted to get you something cool. So, blame Dick for this one. I think he's a bit on the dorky side ever since … well, forever."

Dick ignored Jason. "Sure Tim, whatever." He felt dumb as well, especially now that Jason had put all the pressure on him. Sometimes he just hated his brother, the fifteen-year-old would just make him _so_ mad! "I don't care."

Tim ran to the tree, digging through the remaining gifts and momentarily paused. "Dickie, is this it?" He held up a gift, offering a confused look. "I thought we used snowman wrapping paper!"

"We did. That's not it."

"It says to Dad." Tim read the tag. "From Jason, Dick and Tim."

So maybe Alfred had gotten Bruce something from them already. Dick felt Jason elbow him hard in the side. "Ok, well, you can give him that one too. I don't care, Tim."

The boy handed it to his father, leaning forward as the billionaire began to unwrap it, silent. "What is it?"

This caused Bruce to smile, knowing perfectly well that the boys had no part in this. "I guess we'll find out, won't we?" It was a digital picture frame, obviously already opened, probably to put pictures on.

"I give good gifts." Jason commented with a grin. "I go all out, don't I? _Much _better than the lame-ass thing we got you."

"What does it do?" Tim asked, touching the box and then looking up to his guardian with concern.

Explaining the concept, but keeping the item in its box, Bruce made the speech short. Seeing Tim wasn't really that interested. "Thank you, guys."

Neither Dick nor Tim seemed too happy about it, and said nothing. Jason on the other hand seemed humored, a familiar smile on his face, he began to talk. "Why aren't you getting the gift you both agreed on for Dad? It was so amazing, remember?"

The sixteen-year-old gypsy to his right gave a look of disgust to his brother. If looks could kill, Jason Todd would be mangled.

"I don't understand." Bruce said slowly. He wanted to explain that he didn't care what the boys got him, that he'd love it no matter what. It was the thought that counted, and nothing more. The billionaire truly felt that way, but he just couldn't put that into words he felt comfortable saying. It was much easier just to wait for the boys to figure it out on their own. "I get another gift?"

The youngest nodded and returned to the tree, resuming his digging till he found a wrapped box and brought it over to his guardian, wearily eyeing Dick the whole while. "Jays wanted to get you something else, but we didn't know."

Bruce took the box and set to the task of unwrapping and opening it. He pulled out a picture frame. Inside was a photo of all three boys, Tim apparently the only happy one. Dick and Jason looked close to miserable, not to mention just plain awkward. It was clear that this hadn't been what either had wanted to get. And now the socialite understood why Dick hadn't been too happy when he saw the digital frame. "This is great guys."

"Yeah, sort of last minute." Dick muttered, getting to his feet and shrugging.

"I wanted to get you pajama pants or a hat or something. But noooo, apparently not knowing your size is a problem."

"Jason, shut up."

Bruce watched to two for a second and smiled. "Stop being dumb, guys. I like this. Thank you both."

"And me."

"And you too, Tim."

* * *

The boys were in the den, playing their new Xbox360. They had wanted to play the Wii, but they decided it'd be best to wait on that one for now. They were going back to Gotham in the morning, Bruce had said, and they could wait a day.

Dick, Clark, Jason, and Tim were all doing multiplayer on Halo3, which Tim was becoming more and more upset till he stopped and returned to his DS, leaving them. He sat on the couch and just emerged his mind into the Pokemon game, having a good time with it.

"DUDE! SHIT!" Jason exclaimed as Clark used a grenade launcher. "You totally camped out and waited! Unfair!"

"Camping out is aloud. Screen peeking is not."

"I didn't look at your screen, Clark. Damn! I'm going to kill you now."

"What am I hearing?" Bruce came down the steps, a stern look on his face. "It's a game Jason, no reason to curse so much and so loudly. We could all hear you quite well upstairs."

The teenager said nothing and continued on with his game.

"You have another controller?" Bruce questioned.

Clark nodded, a smile forming now. "You want to play, Bruce?"

The billionaire took a seat beside Dick and picked it up, giving a nod. "I didn't do too poorly the last time. I might as well attempt again."

"Daaaaad." Jason whined. "This isn't a game for you. Trust me. You don't even like these sorts of games. You might be ok at them, but that doesn't mean its ok that you play."

Bruce gave him a bored look. "Does that mean this game is too graphic?"

"No, that means that I don't want you to play if you're going to complain all the time."

"Fair enough, only if you promise not to complain all the time as well, which I know will be harder for you." Bruce watched as Dick restarted the game. "And that means no cursing when you die either."

Jason shot daggers with his eyes. "Dad, remember yourself."

And they were off. At first it went slow, as everyone struggled to find each other and get weapons that were reasonable. Then the real killing began once they learned the format of the game. And Bruce dominated almost instantly, winning the first round with ease. "This is a fun game." He said. "Though, somewhat boring."

"Dad, I swear to god." Jason muttered. "You can't play."

"But I just beat you."

"It's no fun, Dad." Dick agreed, glancing at Clark. "You'd be better at missions then multiplayer."

"Then let's do that."

"Only two people can do that."

Bruce made a face and put down the controller. "Fine."

"You don't have to stop playing, Dad." Dick slowly said, though he wanted Bruce to have no part in the gaming world ever again. It was just weird. His guardian was supposed to be dumb about these things, slow at electronics, and complain about how violent they were. Not joining in and having fun as well. "Why don't we do teams? Me, Clark, and Jason against you?"

Bruce scoffed.

"Come on, it'll be fun." Dick offered, nodding at his new teammates. "We'll dominate on this one. He can't beat three people."

Buuuut he did, and Jason was pissed. He threw down the controller after Bruce had managed to use the _banshee _to bomb them, and then launched at his guardian, forcing the man down and stealing away the controller. He hit Bruce on the arm, hard and glared. "You cheat!"

"And you're just a sore loser." Bruce answered, flipped the boy over his head and sitting back up. He watched Jason groan a bit, lying there on his back. "Don't worry, kid. I won't tell your friends at school what happened."

Clark just laughed.

_To be continued …_


	12. Chapter 12

**Warning: **I do not encourage any 'stupid' partying or poor driving in this chapter. Purple Drank is dangerous, and a stupid attempt to have some fun. Just because it is mentioned DOES NOT mean that I am saying it is safe to do, or a good idea. It's ILLEGAL! Ok, hopefully I got my point across. Though, while I'm on it, I also don't support Jason's smoking in this fanfiction. I do support Barbara's Uggs though, and her North Face jacket. ;-)

**Authors Note: **I don't know how it happened, but it did. Tim is totally out of character. Not a little, but a lot. I've gotten a lot of comments ever since day one, and everyone is really, really right about that. It IS annoying. I was driving around and thought about it, and maaaaan. Anyhow, I apologize. I do sort of have something worked up in my head, but you never know where that'll go. The plan is to make Tim's attitude change, we'll see what happens.

And if you're wondering_: Where is this story even going? _Don't worry, I do have a plot. A poor one, but a plot indeed it is. I'm just attempting to make you fall in love with Jason, Dick, Tim, and Bruce all the more, before executing the 'plan'.

_**You Do Good, You Find Good**_

**By: **The BatThing

**Chapter Twelve:**

"RARRGH!" Jason jumped atop the table, sliding across the top and knocking a chair over, creating a sort of block so Tim couldn't get past. The fifteen-year-old was quick, rolling over and sitting up so he could reach out and tackle the eight-year-old, laughing all the way as they fell to the floor.

Tim struggled against the weight, gasping from surprise and kicking in defense. "You're hurting me," was proclaimed, even though Jason wasn't causing any real harm. Perhaps momentary discomfort, but nothing more.

It had been a month since they had come home from Kansas, returning, with some hesitation, to their normal routines. School and work were now the norm, along with homework, meetings, and friends. Dinner was at the same time every night, there were no adventures through the snow, and there was hardly any chance of getting Bruce to play video games nowadays. He had returned to his habit of overworking, which was exactly why Jason and Tim were waiting in a meeting room and not at home.

Dick had a dentist appointment right after school that day, and so Bruce had volunteered to pick the other two up. But rather than taking them home, he had brought them to work so he could meet with a business partner from Star City. The billionaire explained that it was a chance for them to get their homework done, but as soon as he left, that failed to happen. A game of paper football turned into a game of tackle, one which Tim Drake was loosing badly.

"Say Uncle!"

Tim giggled, squirming all the more, refusing to give in just yet.

"Say it or I'll be forced to call upon Tickle Tommy!"

"NOOOOO!" At this threat, Tim's thrashing became more violent, and with good reason. Tickle Tommy was just a dumb thing that Jason and Dick would do to him once they pinned him down. When he was little, it had been fun, but now that he was bigger the joke was just like torture. Tickle Tommy had gone from fun tickling, to murder tickling.

Jason smirked. "Then say Uncle!"

Tim refused this option, and thus the tickling began. He laughed, giggling and trying to push his brother off, but as soon as it became harder to breath the fun wore away. "Gh-ghee-gee-get off!" He could feel panic rising and tears were starting from the pain of laughing and tickling too much. "HELP!"

"Say uncle!"

"HEEEELP!!"

"What's going on?"

Jason and Tim both fell silent, looking up to find their guardian in the doorway. There were two others with him, a tall man with blonde hair, and then a boy that looked about seventeen with reddish-blonde hair.

Bruce just stared at the two boys, waiting for them to get a move on; and happy when they slowly got to their feet, blushing. "I'd like you both to meet Mr. Oliver Queen and Roy Harper. They're from Star City."

Jason decided not to like Roy. Roy looked cool.

Tim decided to like Roy and Mr. Queen. They both looked pretty cool.

"Let me see if I can guess right." Oliver began with a small smile in place that almost seemed false. He pointed to Jason and clicked his fingers. "You're Richard, and then you have to be Timothy!"

Now Jason was unamused. He gave his head a tilt and just waited for Bruce to correct the man, because he certainly wasn't going to waste any breath.

"Actually, this is Jason. Dick is currently at the doctors."

"Is he sick?"

"No, just a check up."

"He's not at the doctors." Jason sounded exasperated. "He's at the _dentist_."

This earned a dirty look from Bruce. "I apologize, the dentist. Now, Jason and Tim, Mr. Queen and I are going to go upstairs and run through a few things with Mr. Fox, Mr. Bales, and Mrs. Harrison. So, if you need anything, you find Sarah. Roy will be staying with you both; it shouldn't be too long, maybe just half an hour at most."

Jason made a pained expression at the bundle of bad news. "Can't Dick come pick us up once he's done?"

"If you have any trouble, Roy, just ask Tim to help you out. He can tell you where Sarah is." Bruce nodded to him and then turned his gaze to the other two boys. "Tim's in charge."

Jason huffed. "Shut up, Dad."

Bruce just directed Ollie out of the room and shut the door, ignoring the comment. This created the social gap that Roy had been worried about. He stood, awkward for a few seconds before deciding that Jason and Tim weren't something _he_ was going to worry about. Tossing his head and spotting Jason's backpack, he grinned. "You both had school today?"

"Yeah. Did you?" Tim moved over to his newfound friend, smiling a bit. "Do you go to college?"

"No. I'm only sixteen. Why, do I look like I could go to college? 'Cause that'd be a good thing. Get the girls that way."

Jason rolled his eyes.

"I'm eight."

"That's cool. So, what do you guys do around here for fun? Anything interesting, or do you just sit around?"

"We were playing paper football, and tackle." Tim offered, his eyes wide with wonder, curious to know who Roy was exactly. He could sense that this teenager was cool, and somebody to look up to. Jason was easily forgotten as he thought that there might be the possibility to become good friends with Roy. "Do you want to do something?"

"I dunno. Can you leave this room, or are we confined?"

Sauntering, a bit upset, Jason took a seat at the table, pulling his backpack over to him without bothering to acknowledge Roy or in the least.

"Can you talk?"

Now, this sort of thing bothered Jason. He jerked his head up, unwilling to be considered shy and glared. "I can talk. I just don't want to."

"Why?"

Jason didn't really have a good reason. "Why don't you shut-up so I can do my homework?"

"Whoo, somebody's a bit moody. What'd I do to you, huh? Or are you this great to everyone?" Roy glanced at Tim. "Is he always like this, or am I just lucky?"

"You're not lucky." The little boy stated.

"I have an idea, Bucky, why don't you "fuck-off" and let me work on this assignment." There was no way some idiot kid from Star City was going to make Jason Todd look like a fool, especially not a red-head. There was no way he was going to stand for this, not in his town.

"Bucky? My name's Roy, and that's a terrible idea. You might be older, but you don't scare anyone with that tough-guy act. All you are is some rich-ass kid who thinks he can talk tough 'cause his dad's got the money. But I have a newsflash for you, Jay-son, you can't beat me."

Jason scoffed at this accusation and challenge. He was happy to hear Roy mistook him for being older, that was always nice, but it didn't change his emotions enough to stop him from wanting to fight this kid. Not wasting anymore time to think things through or ask questions, Jason shoved away from the table and walked over to Roy Harper, and knocked Roy fucking Harper on his ass. "I'm fifteen, you rube. You can tell your friends that a little kid beat you up, a rich little kid."

"Rube? Really? What does that even mean?" Roy wiped a hand across his nose and gave his head a little shake, getting up. "And you aren't little. You're one big fifteen-year-old."

Jason threw another punch, but Roy quickly caught it and threw his own, knocking the larger boy onto the table. The red-head moved, forcing Jason to stay down, and causing Tim to panic a little. The eight-year-old thought things through and remembered what Jason had said, instructing him how to throw a punch. So, Tim threw one, hitting Roy in the upper arm.

The hit didn't hurt much, but it did distract Roy enough for Jason to hit him again, but this time in the nose.

"DON'T YOU HURT MY BROTHER!" Tim warned. "He'll beat this _shit_ out of you!"

Jason shoved Roy away, who appeared to be in pain, and grabbed Tim, moving him out of the way. The two waited, watching as Roy kept his hands over his nose, fighting back the tears of pain. His nose was bleeding, and he didn't want them to see him hurt, so in a fit of anger, he charged the other teenager, bringing them both to the ground.

* * *

The yelling had been going on for half a minute, probably no more - but that was enough. It was loud, people could hear, and it was unprofessional. Oliver Queen hadn't been happy to find Roy fighting, but nobody expected him to get _this _upset about it. "What the hell were you thinking, ROY!? You and your big mouth and small brain got you into this trouble, and you sure as hell had better be trying to think of a good way to make up for it!" 

Jason was now thoroughly ashamed, hearing the yelling down the hall between Roy and Oliver. He now realized that he was fortunate Bruce never flew off the handle _that_ badly. Lifting a timid gaze, he saw his guardian listening also, a deep set frown. "Make them stop, Dad." He managed. "It's my fault, not Roy's."

Bruce would full well like to make it stop, but he didn't enjoy the idea of interrupting.

"What do you mean it was an accident?! Giving somebody a bloody lip isn't an accident! I can't believe this happened. What's wrong with you nowadays? First the drugs, and then _this?!_ I swear to god, if you don't shape up you'll be back out and-"

The billionaire sighed and walked over, opening the door and looking at Oliver Queen. He declined his head a little. "Perhaps this isn't the best time or place, Mr. Queen? And I think you should know that this wasn't just Roy's fault. Jason, come here."

Jason slowly made his way out into the open, glaring. He stood beside his guardian, saying nothing for a long while, until he could just feel the tension building. "It's my fault. I hit Roy because I got mad. He was … he was just talking to me and I told him to fuck off, and he said I wasn't nice and I got mad. It wasn't his … it wasn't his fault."

Bruce could hardly believe the apology. It was completely unlike Jason in every way. There was no selfishness in it, and there wasn't any hint of lying. Just the truth and taking the blame. This was rare indeed. If he weren't upset, he'd have smiled at the teenager. "Jason does have a bad habit of … flying off the handle, Ollie. Trust me when I say that Roy probably gave Jason what he was asking for."

Jason said nothing, taking full blame for one reason alone. He knew what it was like to be on the receiving end of such treatment. Knowing that he had brought such a cruelty down on Roy wasn't pleasant. Bruce would never scream like that at Jason, though there were probably times the boy asked for it. But Willis Todd would.

Now it was Queen's turn to look ashamed, he hadn't meant for things to go askew, but they had. Emotions had gotten the better of him, like usual. Things weren't so easy now, seemed like they were just getting harder with all that was happening. "I'm sorry … I shouldn't have …" His voice faded away.

"If you'd like, you can yell at Jason all you'd like, save me the trouble." Bruce gave a kind smile, waiting for things to calm down a little more. He had heard rumors about Roy's heroin addiction, which seemed to hit Ollie's life at the perfectly wrong time. The man had just lost his fortune, thus the reason Bruce had offered him a chance to talk it over with Luscious Fox in hopes that things might be mended, even in the least bit.

"Listen, Bruce, thanks for trying to help. I don't … its fine." Oliver gave a shaky smile and shook his head; he didn't want to be here anymore. "I can learn to live like any other Joe, millions of people do - don't they?"

"I'm not worried about your ability to support yourself, Ollie." Bruce said in a low tone. "I know you can."

Roy was bright red still, head hanging as he rubbed his arm up and down. Jason knew why that was, and felt all the more troubled. Maybe Roy was more like him then he realized. Not that Jason had ever gotten into heroin; he'd tried it once a long time ago, but never enjoyed it enough to risk addiction.

"You aren't going to go back to Star City tonight, are you?"

Ollie shrugged, watching as Tim crept out of the room and to his guardian's side. "I told Dinah that I'd try to."

"You two still together, I take it?"

"Yeah."

"Well … I think she'd understand if you don't go back right away. It's getting late. Tell you what, why don't you entertain me and come on over to the Manor? We can knock around ideas; maybe see where your life is headed." Bruce was forcing the invitation. He really didn't want Oliver and Roy to come over for the night, but it seemed like the right thing to do. Ollie was an old business associate that Bruce had always respected. It was the least he could do.

The Star-City resident seemed unsure about the offer, but looked over at Roy and reconsidered. "Let me call Dinah and see what she thinks."

* * *

"Uhmn, hi?" It hadn't been what Dick had expected to see when Bruce and the other came home. Yet, despite his initial surprise, he gave his best effort to smile and be personable. New people were interesting enough, even if he didn't know why they were in his home. 

"This must be Richard then?"

Bruce gave a nod to Oliver. "Dick, this is Oliver Queen and Roy Harper, they'll be staying here for the night. Mr. Queen and I go pretty far back, he's from out of town. And I think Roy is your age? Am I right?"

"I'm sixteen." The red-head answered, doubting that Dick was his age.

"So yeah, that's good." Bruce glanced over, watching as Alfred came into the hall. The butler quickly took Roy and Ollie away, showing them their rooms, and Bruce went along, feeling it might be wise.

"So what's going on?" The gypsy boy smirked at Jason's fat lip. "Who gave you that?"

"Roy."

"Seriously?"

Jason nodded. "Dude, you missed it." He lowered his voice to a whisper. "I don't really know what's going on, but I think I get the general idea. Mr. Queen lost all his money and Dad's trying to help him out. So they were having a meeting, right, and left Roy with Timmy and me. I dunno, we both started a fight and when Mr. Queen found out he got fucking mad, man. I mean, he was screaming and shit, saying things like Roy was no good and addicted to drugs. I think he was too, he was all rubbing his arm where you'd inject."

"What'd you do?"

"Nothing. Dad broke it up and said that they could stay here for the night before going back home. It was messed up, dude. I felt pretty fucking bad, and I think Dad did too, 'cause he invited them to stay here, which is fucking rare."

"I punched Roy." Tim declared to his oldest brother, showing his fist. "I saved Jays."

"You didn't _save_ me. You just caused a distraction. But yeah, Tim threw a pretty awesome punch." Jason balled his fist and held it out for Tim to hit. "You're good for back-up, screw-ball."

"I'm not a screw-ball!"

Dick rolled his eyes and ran his tongue against his clean teeth, wondering if he should go upstairs to his room or wait till everyone came back downstairs. "Does this mean I have to stay home tonight and entertain?"

"Did you have plans or something?"

A shrug as the sixteen-year-old thought that over. "Not really, but it's Friday night. I don't want to be confined."

* * *

"Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! MAAAAN!" Roy was smiling again soon enough. He and Dick had actually been pretty quick to bond, becoming fast friends through the magic of video games. 

Jason stayed away all night long, still feeling slightly bad about getting Roy into so much trouble. He decided to hate Mr. Oliver Queen though, not talking to him, even when the man spoke to the boy. Bruce had shot a few glares his way for that move, but the teenager didn't care. Anyone who treated anyone like Queen had treated Roy didn't deserve second chances, and that's how he saw it. Though, Alfred was quick to give him a lecture on that.

"_Mr. Queen is going through financial problems, he's lost everything Master Jason." The butler had even said the boy's name in a disappointed way. "A little kindness would go a long way. You do wrong to judge and assume that Oliver Queen is cruel to Roy just because he yelled at him."_

"_You didn't hear how he yelled. He called him names, said things – Alfred, he was screaming."_

"_And I'm sure he feels poorly enough about it without having you refuse to acknowledge him."_

"_I hope he does! You don't treat people like they're dirt!"_

_Bruce had overheard that part, coming into the bedroom. "Maybe you should listen to what you're saying, Jason Todd. There have been countless times where you've been cruel to others, but we all forgive you, don't we? You punched Roy today, but he's not ignoring you for it, is he? Maybe you should take a lesson from it and forgive."_

That had ended Jason's night poorly, because he refused to go downstairs anymore, and winded up grounded for a week.

"Man, this game was as good as they said it'd be!" Roy said with glee, putting down the controller with a satisfied grin. "Though, I'm still not sure which one I like better, the first or the second or this one."

"I'm a fan of the second more than the others." Dick turned off the television and stretched his arms out, cracking his fingers. "Man, what time do you have to get up in the morning to catch that plane?"

"Ah, no earlier than you have to get up for school."

"You're forgetting one little thing. Tomorrow is Saturday, no school for me, thank god – I hate all the work."

"Ah, I'd like to go back. Ollie's looking for a new school for me, which sucks. There's nothing worse then a new school, but he doesn't think so." Roy shrugged, rubbing his arms again. "He's acting like he's all ok with everything changing, but I can tell he's not."

The Romanian kept silent, listening in earnest.

"At least he's dealing with it ok."

"What happened?"

Roy shook his head, keeping his eyes downcast. "Nothing really, just bad luck I guess. I don't mind, it was bound to happen to someone, why not us? I dunno." His demeanor changed in an instant. "There is one thing good about new schools though, you wanna know what that is?"

"Nobody knows who you are?"

"Girls."

Dick smirked at that. "How could I forget?"

"You have a girlfriend, Grayson?"

"No."

"I do, wanna see a picture? She's hotter than hot." Roy dug out his wallet from his back pocket and pulled out a photo of a girl with dark hair and blue eyes. "Her name's Donna Troy."

"She is hot."

"Yeah, she is. Too bad we broke up." Another laugh and Roy put the picture away. "So, new school means new life and new girls. Might as well change everything, right?"

Dick nodded. "Why not?"

The two laughed at that for a few seconds and Roy gave another smile to Dick. "You aren't half bad, nothing like your big-little brother, or would it be little-big brother? Anyhow, you're much more likeable then he is."

"Who? Jason? Yeah, that's the gift of adoption. It's an excuse for everything." This called for another spout of laughter between the two, both understanding each other, both knowing all about belonging to a family that wasn't really theirs. "I think he feels bad about what happened though. I think your dad might have scared him pretty badly too, that'd be the only reasoning behind Jason's willingness to take all the blame."

"Ollie can be scary when he wants to be."

"Yeah, Bruce isn't much of a yeller, more of a cold lecture and enough silence to drown a small child. When he gets mad, things get _really_ scary."

The two sat bored with silence and the fact that they had nothing to do. They could technically play a few more rounds of the Xbox, but the idea didn't seem all that appealing seeing as they had been at it for the past few hours.

"…You wanna go see some of Gotham?" Dick didn't know why he suggested it. It wasn't like he could really take Roy anywhere awesome. Maybe a party or two, if he could call people from school and find out where everyone was at. Otherwise, well, it'd just be a tour drive.

"You mean you'd take me around?"

"Yeah, why not, you're cool. Besides, it's really boring just sitting around here and playing."

"Sure! I'll go tell Ollie, just – just hold on a second and let me go ask him!" He jumped up and then paused for a moment, looking down at the Grayson boy. "Do you know where he'd be in the house?"

* * *

"_Please let me go_!" The whine was almost shrill, begging and pleading to be taken along, mostly because Jason didn't want to have to call it an early bedtime or sit in his room till Bruce and Ollie decided to call it a night. "I swear, I won't say anything. Dick, _please_." 

"You're grounded."

"Alfred'll make an exception because of Roy! It's worth asking, you know. If you ask, he'll be more willing to let me go with, and you know it! Please, Dick, _please_ ask him!"

Dick rolled his eyes and sighed, shrugging on his jacket and grabbing his hat, keys, and wallet. "Jays, you won't want to come with. I'm taking Roy to a friend's."

This earned a sly look and Jason Todd smirked. "You mean a party. Come on, I ain't stupid. I don't _care_ where you're going. I don't want to be stuck here all night long. Besides, if I go then you won't have to be totally responsible for Roy, right? You can hang out with your friends more and I can keep the new kid happy."

"Roy doesn't need a babysitter, besides, he's cool – I'm pretty sure everyone'll get along with him. Besides, you did give the guy a bloody nose and make Mr. Queen yell at him – I don't know how comfortable Roy would be with _you_ around." He had a point. Dick pocked his wallet and keys and shrugged at his little brother. "Sorry."

"What do you mean, _sorry_? Sorry that you won't do me a favor?"

"Jays, I don't owe you a favor." He pulled on the ball-cap and turned, leaving the fifteen-year-old where he stood, not really minding. Sure, he felt a little bad that Jason had to stay at home on a Friday night, but that wasn't really Dick's fault – right? Right? It wasn't … it was just that. The gypsy boy slowed, turning back to Jason and narrowing his eyes. "But if I do this for you then you owe me, got it?"

"Got it!"

* * *

"Hey." Dick slipped into the sitting room, trying not to look shy. He glanced behind him at Roy who looked bored more than anything. Here the two of them were, ready to plead so Jason (who neither owed anything) could join them. It seemed stupid, and now that they were looking at Bruce and Ollie, both realized that they really didn't want to have to do this. "So, I was talking to Alfred." 

Bruce rubbed his chin. "I thought you two had left already."

"No. No, not yet. I, uhm, I actually have an idea." The teenager paused and glanced again at Roy who was avoiding eye contact, as if to show he wanted no part in this. "I asked Alfred, and he said it was up to you, but that he didn't mind."

A look.

"Roy and I were thinking it'd be more fun if we had someone else come with us." A pause and Dick felt all the more dumb. He was wasting time with this procrastination. He might as well get this whole thing over with. "We were thinking that it'd be cool if Jays could come along."

"Jason's currently grounded."

"Does currently mean that he can become ungrounded?"

Bruce shook his head. "Bring it up with Alfred."

"I did, and he said it was up to you."

Why did the butler always have to do this? Why couldn't Bruce just have a night without having to make these choices and settle stupid arguments? "Well, ask him if Jason can become ungrounded."

Dick sighed, obviously annoyed. "He'll just send me back here to ask you again."

"Did Jason ask you to do this for him?"

"I told you. Roy and I both want him to come with. He wants to come too, but he said he was grounded. I just thought maybe you'd make an exception for tonight, since Roy's leaving in the morning. What if he went out tonight and you added an extra day, or maybe took away his computer and stuff?"

The billionaire thought about that one and it didn't sound half bad. "You tell Jason that if he wants out that bad, then I'll make him a deal. He goes out tonight, but that means no Xbox, Playstation, Wii, Gameboy – nothing of that sort the whole while he's grounded."

Lingering, Dick decided he didn't like the sound of that negotiation. "I can ask, but-."

"So ask. If he says no then its no, if he says yes, then that's fine too."

Jason agreed to the offer for whatever his reasons might be. Mostly it was due to boredom and his want to get out of the house, and away from Oliver Queen. The man just was … Jason didn't know what he was, but he did know that he was completely uncomfortable with the man being around. Bruce was scary enough, but Oliver Queen seemed unstable.

So, the three all piled into Dick's car. Roy commented on how awesome it was, saying how he wished he had a car, making the driver feel bad for ever complaining about the automobile. "Thanks." He had managed, and quickly changed the subject, like that would make him feel better. It put things into perspective though. Roy had been just like Dick a few months ago, with a parent who could afford just about anything. And now, now he was talking about how he wished he just had a car to drive around. Dick could see he was lucky in a whole lot of ways.

They drove into the city, listening to different songs that Roy liked on Dick's new Ipod Touch. They were headed towards Katie's house, or well, at least that was the plan. The Romanian had called up a few people, and was quickly invited to come to her house where a bunch of kids from school were said to be hanging out. It sounded like it was something to do, but not much in the way of fun. Kids from school could be dumb, but Dick liked the idea of being around Katie. She was nice enough, and pretty, and rumor was that she liked him. So, that was always a nice option and motivator to go hang out with kids his own age.

"Gotham sure looks a lot like Star City." Roy commented as they slowly made their way through traffic. "Maybe a few more people."

"This isn't Gotham." Jason said from the backseat, leaning forward and shaking his head. "This is just a small piece. If you want to see the real Gotham then head towards the Alley – that's where you'll find the real McCoys."

"Real McCoy? What is that supposed to mean, Jason?" Dick rolled his eyes, annoyed with Jason's superior attitude. His brother had a bad habit of acting like he knew Gotham better than anyone because he had spent half of his life in the poor part of town. And it was true, because Jason did know more about the 'dark side' of Gotham than Dick did, but that didn't make it any better to hear. "We're going to have to go get some gas."

They made their way down the congested streets to a gas station where they had to wait ten minutes before they could even get to the pump. Dick ran inside to prepay, leaving Roy and Jason with the car. "I'm at three, I just wanna' put twenty in."

"Alright, kid." The cashier didn't look happy at all, but he took the money. Dick turned to leave, but a familiar face caught him off guard from the back of the line, and he stopped in his tracks. "H-Hi."

A girl with red hair, a perfect burst of freckles across her cheeks, and emerald eyes stood further down the line. She was putting on lip-gloss while talking with a friend. Both stopped and looked at the boy addressing them, curious.

"You're Dick Grayson, aren't you? That's where I know you from." A smile, lips shone because of the newly applied lip gloss. Green eyes framed with mascara and eyeliner, they caught the teenager off guard and he felt his heart skip a beat. "You aaaaare … Dick Grayson? … Aren't you?"

"Yeah. That's me alright." Dick forced himself to play it cool, tilting his head up, wishing he could take off his hat without her seeing. He felt dumb for wearing it now. It wasn't everyday you ran into your dream girl, and for Dick Grayson, his dream girl was the daughter of the commissioner: Barbara Gordon. She was as unavailable as she was pretty, for a lot of different reasons. There was the age gap of three years, the fact that she was the commissioner's daughter, and the fact that just about every guy she met could fall in love with her.

Barbara Gordon was amazing because she beautiful, funny, well prepared, and kind. She could hold her own against just about anyone, and do it in a way that wasn't annoying. A rare gift.

Though, a look at her short jean skirt, black tights, tan Uggs, and a tight green tank top, all of which showed off her figure nicely, was what most guys saw first. What she was wearing and how she wore it was yet another reason Barbara was so popular.

Dick couldn't even dream, but he did. "I … I like your shoes. You're lucky it's not snowing." _Wow, what am I talking about?_ "I just heard that those can get ruined in the snow and rain and shit."

The redhead smiled and nodded. "Yeah, I know. I almost didn't get them because of that, but they were just so cute. Call me poser, but I do love Uggs. They're so cute! Daddy got them for me this Christmas, said it was a waste of good money and sense, but I couldn't resist. I love them, they're just so cute!"

"Well you should for what _they're_ **worth**."

Barbara gave him a look that signaled she was starting to find him pushy. She liked her shoes, and he hadn't really complemented them. He was just saying all the bad things about them. Dick could see that and panicked.

"I really do like them, though. It's weird; I just got a Northface jacket. I don't know why, but I just liked it. So, I spent enough money on it and …" He was making little sense and sounding pretty dumb.

"I love Northface. I have one too, in the car. It's red." She had dark eyeshadow on, making the brilliance of her green eyes all the more evident. Dick had to stay and make an impression. The more he was around Barbara Gordon, the more he loved her. Forget Katie's party and forget Katie. Forget any other girl ever. This was a chance of a lifetime.

"I'm Dick Grayson." Dick held out his hand to Barbara's friend. "I don't think we've really met."

"The name's Carrie." Barbara's friend was a tall blonde, pretty, a bombshell. But she looked 21 or older, and that did its share of intimidation.

"Where are you two girls doing? I mean … I mean, where - where are you going?"

The two exchanged amused glances and Barbara shrugged. "What are you doing out here tonight, Grayson? Doesn't your dad have a reputation to uphold, hmm?"

"So does yours. Come on, if you both aren't doing anything, then maybe you could consider coming with me and my friends. We were going to a party, but … we're flexible."

"Grayson, we were headed out to see a movie."

"Perfect! We'll go too."

The two girls looked at each other and laughed. Barbara was quick to nod, signaling that was fine if he really wanted to. She wasn't stupid though, she could tell the boy had a crush on her, which was cute. Most of her admirers weren't so shy or make requests to tag along. She watched him go to tell his 'friends' and turned to Carrie. "You don't mind?"

"I don't care, so long as we don't change what we're seeing. Though, Babs, watch out for that kid – he likes you something fierce, don't tease with him too much."

"I don't tease!"

"Well, I think his heart might be set on you liking him back … just so you know."

"Nothing wrong if he has a crush. I'll just tell him again that we can't date, because I'd be robbing the cradle, and I don't believe in that sort of thing." She sighed, thinking about how Dick had always lagged around her when they went to social events with their parents. The two had known each other informally for a long while now. Maybe tonight would be a good experience, or maybe it'd flop and she'd break little Dickie Grayson's heart. The idea struck her and she lowered her head, blushing. How could she do that to him? He was so nice, funny, charming, and … just way out of his age league.

* * *

"You never said Jason was going to be here." Barbara smiled down at the other boy, winking at him and tossing her hair back as she looked Roy over. "You must be their friend." 

Dick nodded, eyes focused on Barbara. "Yeah, he's from Star City, his name is-."

"My name is Roy Harper. It's nice to meet you."

_Back off Roy_. Dick wanted to snap, but rather he glared, as Roy didn't seem to catch the signal that Barbara was _his_ girl. But, the red-head from Star City wasn't the only problem, and in fact, the least of Dick's worries. While Roy found Barbara Gordon to be pretty girl, he found Carrie was much more up his aisle. She was tall. She was a blonde. She had a figure. She was gorgeous. Pretty could step aside for the night.

"So how are we going to do this?" Carrie asked, clicking her nails on the top of Dick's car, looking between everyone, not really caring what they did. She just was in hopes of finding some cute guy to hit on her and boast her confidence a bit more. The three boys around her really weren't cut out for making her feel better, even if they gave their respect and complements; they were still too young to really offer her any attention.

"Doing what?" Now Jason finally spoke up, looking up from where he sat in the passengers seat of Dick's car. "I thought we were going to that party?"

"No. I said we'd go with Barbara and Carrie to a movie instead."

Jason just stared in disbelief.

"What? It's not like you really have a choice, you're just luggage, _remember?_" Dick snapped.

"Actually, I do remember. I remember going out and giving up a week without any video games! You can't drag me off to see some click-flick. I could do without sprouting a vagina."

Carrie and Barbara rolled their eyes at Jason, neither impressed nor dissuaded not to go. "We're going to see _Ten Times in Ten Years_." A pause and Carrie glanced at Roy, seeing him staring. "I'd classify that as a chick flick I suppose."

"I don't care." The red-haired teenage boy offered, thinking that he might be able to sit beside the blonde if he got lucky.

"That's what I was worried about …" Carrie looked to Barbara and smiled a little more. "What kind of party were you three planning to go to? High School?"

There was a considerable pause followed by Dick nodding, embarrassed. "Well, it's not like we have a lot of options."

"Let me guess. You'll have maybe some beer, maybe, if you guys got lucky, a parent bought some Boones Farm." She rolled her eyes and glanced at Barbara. "I have another idea on what we could do tonight."

"I don't think I'm going to like your idea, Carrie."

"Barb, these boys want to have fun tonight. Right?"

Jason and Roy nodded their heads.

"So, why not this – I know a party at a friends house down near campus. I see kids younger than you there all the time. It'll be fine." She smiled in a way that melted Roy where he stood. The sixteen-year-old thanked his lucky stars he had come to Gotham and befriended Dick Grayson. This was _amazing_.

It took Barbara a bit of convening. She didn't want to take underage kids at first.

"Barb, you're nineteen! You're still underage."

"I know, but I'm in college. It's-."

"The same thing." Carrie sighed. "I guess if you really don't want to then we won't. I won't force this on you."

The commissioner's daughter thought about it and then shrugged. "Ok, but if anyone gets caught, you all three need to understand that you came by yourselves. Carrie and I aren't going to get dragged down with you."

"Ok." Jason agreed.

They headed towards the Campus and passed a fair share of drunken college students, all of which were mostly just being stupid and yelling dumb things. They were no danger, just kids who were having a bit of fun. Though, Dick told Jason that throwing up didn't look like a good time to him. The sixteen-year-old was a bit iffy on the whole thing. He had drank underage, maybe a few beers (which he never enjoyed the taste); it wasn't like that was his problem. The problem was going out to a stranger's house where there were all sorts of alcohol and things.

He didn't know what he was doing, not really.

They came to a house, buried in the campus neighborhoods, and lost between similar looking apartments. There were cars in various locations, obviously the party wasn't a complete blowout, considering the turn out. Barbara said something about only staying for a few minutes, but nobody really heard her.

"This is such a bad idea."

Roy glanced over at Dick, quirking an eyebrow at his newfound friend. "What?"

"I just … I can see this ending poorly. Maybe it's a bad idea?"

"It's just a party, we all know how to say no, and we all know our limit, right?" Roy gave a casual shrug and watched as Carrie went straight into the house, not bothering to knock. "We're kids; we're supposed to do stuff like this."

"Dickie's a perfect child though; all he knows how to do is study."

"Shut-up, Jason!" Had Barbara heard what his brother had said? Dick certainly hoped not, but he couldn't chance that. He had to make sure the red-head knew perfectly well that he wasn't some loser, that he was worthy. "I am a perfect child, meaning everything I do I'm the best at. That's why you haven't been able to beat me at anything except stupidity."

Jason rolled his eyes at that and froze a bit as Barbara slid past him to get into the house. He tried to act like it were nothing, because Jason Todd never got crushes, but it was hard to deny the fact that the commissioner's daughter was starting to make his stomach flip-flop and his mind consider the option of liking her.

They were almost all instantly separated, all showing different colors in this new atmosphere. Carrie had found some guy, or ten, to show affection to. Barbara knew a few college kids there, and more then enough guys took the chance to talk to her. Roy and Jason sort of clicked in a way, dragging a reluctant Dick along for the ride. The three boys tried different drinks, and even slipped in a round of beer pong against some other guys and a girl.

People asked him what he was doing there on more than one occasion, recognizing that he wasn't college age, but he ignored them. So what if he was 16? Most of the kids there weren't much older? Just 'cause they were in college, didn't make it any more legal.

Dick was slowly starting to warm up to the situation as he slowly became a bit tipsy, the alcohol working its magic. He was in the middle of a Jello shot with some girl whose name he didn't know when the realization hit him – he had to drive home. What was he doing drinking when he had to drive Dick and Roy home still?

The sixteen year old shoved through a few people, searching for his brother or Roy, Carrie, or Barbara. He found Jason easily enough, talking to some guy who had played Beer Pong with them earlier. His name had been Clyde, and unlike the others, he was nice enough and didn't mind at all that they were clearly in high school.

Dick inched closer when he saw Clyde holding something towards Jason.

"Want some Purple Drank, man? Good stuff, right here. Had it before?"

Jason slowly shook his head, unfamiliar with the term, but he took the cup never the less, willing to try new things. "What's all in it?"

"In this one?" The college student stumbled a bit, for no reason. He wasn't really drunk, maybe tipsy, but it was clear he was overacting it out. "Some gooood shit, dude."

The conversation probably would have ended there with Jason drinking the stuff, but Dick came right over. "What's in it?"

"Stuff, man." Clyde made a face at the Romanian. "What's up your ass? It's just Purple Drank, ain't nothing too bad about it."

"Then what is it?"

Jason rolled his eyes, embarrassed that Dick was acting like a mother. "It's just some fun, Dick, cool it down."

"All you do is get some fruit punch, put in a jolly rancher, and maybe a little Promethazinewith codeine, some vicodin and shit. It's all good for a little relaxation and shit. Trust me." Clyde smiled and swayed to the left and right, like he was going to fall.

"You _aren't_ drinking that, Jason. That's not just alcohol, that's a drugged up drink."

"What do you mean I'm not drinking it? Who made you in charge of me? Back off, Dick, I think I'm old enough to make my own choices. Believe it or not, I've done my share of things like this and I know how to hold my own." Jason shook his head at his older brother, wishing Dick would stop being such a pansy and come to the realization that there was more to the World then what he knew. Sometimes Dick acted so dumb. "It's not like I'm going to become addicted or a druggy. I've done stuff like this and I never have a problem stopping. Besides, where am I going to get-."

"You're an idiot, thinking you're all the shit because you've done a few drugs and drank a few drinks. I'm not Alfred! I'm not Timmy! And I sure as hell aren't DAD! But I know that you do have a problem with addictions because you have to smoke every single day! Yeah, that's right, I know. I know we all pretend like it's not true, but you stink so badly of it at times, I don't know why Dad hasn't caught on. Sometimes I think he just doesn't want to."

"…Fuck you."

"Fuck me for what? For finding out your stupid, _stupid_ secret? Jason, you _aren't_ drinking that shit, not with me around and not if you want your secret to stay a secret." Dick threatened, feeling people watching him. His reputation was down the drain now; he could hear people calling him a tool and other names. People were telling him to back off, to let Jason do what he wanted.

Jason just stared at Dick, seeing that his older brother was serious. He shook his head and then downed the drink, not even bothering to reconsider. Dick wouldn't tell on him, and Jason wasn't going to end up a druggy from just one stupid Purple Drank. He knew druggies, and he hated almost all of them.

"I'm going home." Dick snapped. "So you better get your stuff together and get to the car before I leave you here."

Barbara stepped forward, putting a hand on Dick's arm. "I don't think going home with Jason would be the best idea right now."

"What do you -."

And Jason threw up all over the ground, earning a round of groans and curses from those watching. Apparently all the drinks before had pushed the limit, and this one had made everything boil over.

Dick groaned. This party was a bad idea. Now he, Jason, and Roy were the idiots who came to a party and just about ruined it. Yeah. _This sucks_.

_To Be Continued…_


	13. Chapter 13

**Author's Note:** Sorry this took so long. Sorry it's choppy. :-(

"I'm not trying to be a nuisance; I just think we can do better than this. That was simply my two cents. You can take it or leave it. The conversation lingered on and on, and before I knew it night had turned to dawn. And were we searching for the truth in it? Or are we debating just to win the argument? 'Cause none of us wanna' hear about where we went wrong. I have the potential to be the guiltiest. My greatest strength is also my strongest weakness.

_John Rueban and Matty T. _Nuisance

_**You Do Good, You Find Good**_

**By: **The BatThing

**Chapter Thirteen:**

"ARE YOU STUPID?!"

"I'm not drunk, just … I drank. I don't know, you think it'll be ok if I just -."

Barbara Gordon's temper rose with each second that passed, or so it seemed. Roy was over on the side of the road, puking beside the car. They had left the party about five minutes prior, after Jason's wonderful show, and on the way back to their cars, Dick revealed that he wasn't as sober as he wished he was. Barbara about had a fit with that one. "Who did you think was going to drive your car back to your _house_?! And why didn't you tell us that you _had_ to go home tonight. You have to be the stupidest boy I've ever met."

Now, that wasn't fair. "It's not like I was the only one who drank! We _all_ did."

"Did you see _me_ drinking in there? I _knew _I'd have to DD! I _thought it through_!" She huffed a bit and crossed her arms, listening to Jason retch. "I should just do what Carrie did, bail on you three."

"Hey … at least were not obviously drunk." Roy offered. "I mean, what are a few drinks, right?"

"Right. And what's the smell of alcohol on teenagers? And what's chancing driving under the influence? I hear that's safe." Barbara pulled her jacket tighter around her and sighed yet again, sounding infuriated. "Ok, let's think this through. Is there any way your parents would let you stay over at a friend's house? You can say you're staying with someone, and just stay at my apartment for the night."

Dick's heart skipped a beat and he thought it through. It seemed highly unlikely, especially with Oliver Queen expecting to go to the airport the next day. "What time is it now?"

"It's one thirty. Early still."

"_Early? _I think we're already in enough trouble, curfew was an hour ago. I didn't even bother to call." He paused, knowing his cell was in the car, and knowing that Bruce had probably called it and left an angry message. "I don't think that'd work too well."

"Well, then let's weigh the options here. How much trouble are you going to get into if your parents find out you went to a party and drank, and that Jason is, in fact – haha- drunk and drugged? Hmm." Barbara shook her head. "If I were you I'd just make up a story. Stay the night at somebody's house and then apologize like crazy tomorrow morning when you get back home. Say that you fell asleep there watching a movie. It's better than letting them catch you like _that_." She nodded towards Jason.

She had a point. Even if Dick didn't like the idea of lying, he didn't like the idea of Bruce finding out where they had been all the more. "What do you think, Roy?"

"Ollie would kick me out if he found out what we did." The way he said it was so final that the others weren't sure if he were serious or joking. "I … He doesn't trust me as it is, and if he found out Jason was drugged he'd probably blame me or something. I vote we lie."

"Yeah. OK." The gypsy looked over to his crush and wished that this weren't so awkward. "You don't mind if we stay at your place?"

"So long as nobody knows about it."

Dick gave a nod, and then walked over to Jason, pulling his brother up. What he expected was willingness to comply, but what he got was a punch in the face.

* * *

"You're a life saver, Katie. You don't realize what I owe you." Dick held the phone, having just gotten his friend to cover for them. She had said she would say, if asked, that Dick and the others had fallen asleep watching a movie, and nothing had happened. The girl had even managed to get her older brother to say he was there with them the whole time.

"Yeah." Her voice was filled with disappointment. "I just don't see why you didn't come to _my_ party. It was fun. We all had fun. You said you would come, Dick."

"Next time, I swear – I'll make it up to you."

"Yeah, ok … next time." Her answer was reluctant, but it was an answer, and that was enough.

"Thanks again, Katie, I'll talk to you later." He clicked the phone off and handed it back to Barbara who was washing dishes in her sink. "Thanks."

The freckled faced girl smiled and shrugged, glancing over to the adjoining room, where Jason was passed out on the couch. "I'm just happy we didn't have to take him to the hospital. I thought, for a little while there, he'd have to go." She glanced at the clock. "We should probably wake him up in a few minutes again, just to be safe."

Dick was pretty positive that Jason was fine, and that his little brother should take care of himself. It had been horrible putting up with the fifteen-year-old. Jason was a _mean_ drunk, that much was sure now. After he had punched Dick the teenager had attempted to have a go at Roy, but the Romanian managed to settle him down enough to recognize it was him. Once Jason realized Dick was there, things went a bit better, but not completely.

He was a pain in the ass to get into the car, because for some reason Jason didn't want to get in. He just kept walking around, muttering things and cursing under his breath. So, when Dick had tried to force him into the car, Jason had gotten mad, and the two began a small scuffle which Roy broke up.

Dick was slowly realizing, as he had huffed at Jason, that Roy wasn't completely with it either. Finally, after a long talk, and a whole lot of pleading, Jason got into the car, and they all came back to Barbara's apartment. (Though another stop was made so Jason could throw up yet again.)

"_It's a good thing._" Barbara had said as she made a face at the gagging noises. "_He's getting all that alcohol and stuff out of him. It's good._"

"_Doesn't make it any nicer._" Roy had groaned, holding his own stomach.

So, here they were. Jason sleeping on the couch now; _completely_ passed out. Roy lay on the floor, wrapped in a blanket with one of the pillows from the couch. It looked like the position would be uncomfortable, but the teenager looked relaxed. So, Dick and Barbara had stayed up and taken care of things – like a cover story.

"I'm pretty sure I'm screwed come tomorrow." Dick slowly said, thinking about what was going to happen when they finally did come home. "Roy and his dad are just visiting, they weren't even planning to stay the night, but my Dad talked them into it. I just met them today, and now …"

"Well, it's better than brining them both home like that. Your parents probably would have taken Jason to the hospital and found out he did more than just drink."

"Yeah … still, I'm going to be screwed."

Barbara just smiled.

"Thanks again, it's really great of you to help us out like this. Sorry we're such …" Dick gave a shrug. "We clearly don't know how to handle ourselves, huh?"

"I think you know how to handle yourself just fine. I don't know about those two, but you're ok. Though, I must admit you were dumb not to realize you had to drive home."

"Yeah, that was stupid, huh?"

"A little." They both shared a laugh and Barbara glanced at the clock again, sighing and wishing she could be out and about rather then stuck indoors with these kids. Oh well, maybe tonight wouldn't totally suck, at least Dick wasn't passed out on her floor, otherwise she'd be bored to tears. "You wanna' take a walk or something, I'm pretty sick of doing nothing."

Was this for real? Dick straightened a bit, stammering for the right thing to say without sounding overeager. "Yeah, sure … do you think it's ok to leave them there?"

"Pretty sure, we won't go too far, just far enough to waste a little time." She grabbed her coat and slipped it on, taking out some mittens and slipping her hands inside of them. She watched as Dick did the same, zipping up his jacket, and awkwardly catching his shirt. He muttered and undid it, finally fastening it correctly, and off they went, locking the door behind them.

* * *

He didn't know what to say to make this right, or at least a little better. He wanted to, though. This was awkward, this was disappointing, and this was … well, a bit worrisome. "They're probably just ignoring us. Jason's notorious for breaking rules, and Dick is more than eager to go along." That was the truth, as Bruce Wayne knew it, but it wasn't the whole truth. Because the truth was that the billionaire was concerned. Dick and Jason could be dumb if they chose to, but they weren't idiots. Both had a good head on their shoulders, and knew better than to stay out this late, ignoring his phone calls, especially if they had a guest with them.

Oliver Queen didn't come across as worried, surprisingly enough. No, the man from Star City was close to livid, muttering that it wasn't Bruce's fault. He didn't even blame Dick or Jason. No, most of his anger was towards Roy. "He's been causing trouble these past few months. I thought we were _over_ this."

What could anyone say to something like that? Bruce just cleared his throat and dialed Dick's number yet again.

"I don't have this kind of trouble with Connor." There was a pause in which Ollie didn't speak the hateful words that crossed his mind, but thinking them was enough. "Connor doesn't act like _Roy_."

Once again, Bruce opted silence, buying time, listening to the phone go straight to voice mail.

"I'm going to bed. Thanks for worrying, Bruce, but I'm sure Roy's dragged your boys into trouble, and for that I apologize. This thing isn't new for him. He'll be home come morning, with some excuse or lie."

"I'm sorry it happened, I shouldn't have trusted Jason or Dick. I apologize." He watched as Ollie shook his head and left the room; going to the bedroom he had been appointed. Bruce was happy for that. He liked Ollie, he trusted him, but there were moments … sometimes he worried that he'd turn into what Oliver was. They were so much alike.

The only difference was the silence. Oliver lived his emotions on his sleeve, ready to unleash them at the drop of a hat. Bruce kept it all inside almost always. _That_ was the difference, and the billionaire was glad of that.

"Dad?" It was Tim, and he looked scared. A blanket was wrapped around his body, as if to help keep him safe. "Can we go look for them now, please?"

"Looking isn't going to be of much help."

"Why not?"

"Because it's a huge city and they could be anywhere."

"Are they safe?"

"Sure, Tim. Go to bed."

The eight-year-old narrowed his eyes, knowing better. "I don't believe you. I want to look for them."

"Timothy." A stern voice. "_Bed_."

"I'll look for 'em myself if you won't help."

Bruce didn't want to have to do much of anything right now. He just wanted to go to bed. But instead he was up worrying about too many things. He was worried about Jason, Dick, and Roy. He was worried that Oliver was going to do something stupid when Roy finally did come back and make a scene like before. He was worried that he was to blame in all of this. And he worried, above everything else, that things weren't ok. "You aren't going anywhere."

"Oh yes I am." Tim insisted. "I'm going to find them!"

"You _won't_ find them."

The little boy scoffed, actually scoffed, and then turned around, leaving the room, having no intentions of going to bed or doing as he was told. He was going to find his brothers, even if it meant walking all over the city. He could tell Bruce was concerned, and he didn't like it at all.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"I TOLD YOU!" Tim shrieked, stomping a foot and whirling around. "I'm _finding_ them!"

Now this was a new development. Bruce stared at the child for a few moments and then slowly nodded, interested in the way the eight-year-old was acting. Tim was never one to take such initiative. "And what if I said that if you don't go to bed this instant you're going to be in trouble?"

Tim folded his arms and stood, unwavering. "I'm not going to bed."

"Why?"

"Because you're scared and I don't like it."

The billionaire stared at the child for a few moments more and then sighed. "Ok, Tim, here's the deal. You want to go look for them, I'll take you, but only if you can promise me something."

A nod.

"You go tell Mr. Queen that we're going to drive around the city, call a few people, and he's welcome to come with. Can you do that?"

There was hesitation, but then a small nod. "Ok." Even if Mr. Queen was scary, Tim could do that. The eight-year-old swallowed and then hurried to go tell the mean-man.

* * *

Dick and Barbara had been walking and talking for about ten minutes, their conversation stifled and awkward. There were moments where things went smoothly, but in an instant that died away and there was nothing but silence. This was due to the awkward fact that Dick liked Barbara and the girl didn't return those feelings, and both knew it.

And in these sorts of situations, it was easier to gossip about others then to talk about yourself, so that's what Dick found himself doing. "I just hope he'll be ok, you know? I dunno. I hardly know Roy, but I have this feeling that things aren't right there."

"Assuming is dangerous." Barbara warned.

"I'm not saying there's _abuse_, I'm just saying that maybe Roy isn't … you know, maybe he isn't given enough attention." Dick thought about that and realized he didn't agree with what he was saying. So why was he saying it? "I mean, he just got clean from drugs – _heroine_. It's understandable that Mr. Queen is going to be acting crazy and mistrust him."

"Well, I probably would be a bit weary to trust him too, if he were my kid. If he was a junkie, then you have to be careful with that. I'd say this Oliver guy has a reason to worry like he does. Roy's a nice kid, and I'm glad that he has someone to worry about him."

"Roy doesn't seem happy though."

Barbara looked over at Dick. "How do you know?"

"I dunno, just the way he talks. He's changing schools, his dad lost everything, his girlfriend just broke up with him, he just quit drugs … I probably wouldn't be happy either."

"Nor would I. …You wanna head back now? I think we better go check up on our friends back home." She smiled and turned around, walking back the way they had just come. Dick quickly followed, falling back into step with her, silent once again. "You know what I think?"

"Huh?"

"I think that Roy shouldn't be your main concern. He handled the drinking pretty well. I mean, he wasn't _wasted_, but he was drunk. Jason, on the other hand … what's the deal with _that_?" Barbara made a face. "I say there's something there to worry about."

Dick didn't like that comment, so he ignored it.

"I'm not trying to pry. It's just that I've seen a lot of people drunk. Jason wasn't even mad, he was just … _mean_. He's probably my first encounter with a real, mean drunk. And not just stupid mean either."

"He doesn't have to be drunk to be that."

The girl laughed and braved against the chilling wind that struck out of nowhere. "I can't wait for summer."

"Yeah. Same here."

They were silent the rest of the way home, Dick knowing he was ruining all his chances, and sad with that. It was just … he was worried if he said much more he'd come across as a bigger idiot. It was clear Barbara was _way_ out of his league, and clear she didn't like him. Hurrying to the door, he held it open for her.

"Looks like we missed a few calls." She noted, seeing a flashing light from the phone. Checking the caller ID she frowned. "It's your friend, Katie. She called at least three times."

"That can't be good." Dick took the phone and dialed his friend's number. "Katie? Hey it's …"

"_Dick! God, where have you been! I've been trying to call you for the past hour! Somebody from your house called Ryan Schueman from school and he said that he thought you'd be at my party. So my mom got a call from _your_ dad and she had me talk to him."_

"What'd you say?"

"_What was I supposed to say? He was saying that you were missing and he was trying to find you and the others, and if I knew anything he'd be really happy. I said that you called me about an hour ago, so I knew you were fine."_

"Oh no, Katie, you didn't!"

"_I didn't tell him where you were! I just … I didn't want him to worry_."

"Yeah, but now he knows my phone is working and that I'm just ignoring him."

"_Dick, maybe you should call him. He's out looking with your friend's dad and your little brother. I think they're really worried. It's mean not to tell them, Dick_."

"Yeah, maybe … thanks for helping us out, Katie. I owe you one." Dick meant it; she had helped by not telling Bruce the truth. "I'll figure it out, don't worry. Catch you later."

Barbara watched him hang up, giving a disappointed look. "Bruce is on your heels?"

"No, but we're going to need a new cover story."

"What happened?"

"They called her and asked if she knew where we were. She said that she knew we were ok, because I called her an hour ago – meaning that now they know my phone works just fine. And what's worse is that my Dad, Tim, and Roy's dad are out there driving around, trying to find us. _Shit_."

Barbara didn't like the sound of that. "Maybe you should call them. It's almost four in the morning and your family is driving around searching for you."

Silence.

"Is that true?"

Barbara and Dick turned to see Roy sitting up, looking at them.

"They're looking for us?"

"If you guys want, I can drive you back to your car, or … even to your house." Barbara's incentive was clear. She didn't want to be blamed or dragged down with them if she could avoid it. Her father would have her head if Bruce Wayne called saying that she had brought his kids to a college party and then kept them hidden for a night. "I don't think making Mr. Queen and Mr. Wayne worry so much is such a great idea, you know? Well, it's _not_."

Roy sighed, glancing at Jason and then back at the other two with a raised eyebrow. "Any genius ideas?"

"You've heard mine." Barbara answered.

"I'm hoping for one that _doesn't_ include the part where we fess up to what we've done."

The commissioner's daughter shot Roy a dirty look for his flippant answer and crossed her arms securely. "I don't see any other option. You can keep lying and trying to fool your parents, but in the end you'll find it would have been a lot easier and a lot less painful to just tell the truth and say you're sorry."

"But I'm _not_ sorry." Roy admitted, staring at her like he didn't understand. "We didn't do anything wrong. Well, ok, we might have drank underage, and Jason _might_ have participated in drugs, but I hardly think any of that was with the purpose to do anything wrong. We were just having _fun_."

"Nobody finds out about the drugs."

Barbara and Roy turned to look at Dick.

"I mean, if we tell them what happened, we don't mention that Jason took a shot of that drink, whatever it was, ok? I mean, it's not like they're going to take us to go get tested. I'm sober; I'm feeling totally myself now. How about you, Roy?"

Silence.

"Roy?"

"I don't feel good, but I don't think they'll be able to tell I drank that much. The only trouble is over there." He jerked his head towards where Jason lay, wheezing as he slept. "He's _out_ of it. They're going to realize something's up. Maybe we can get him to puke it all up, huh? Stay here for another hour or two, and see where that gets us?"

Barbara rolled her eyes and stomped a foot. "You can't make him just puke it all up. If I were you guys I'd just go for honesty."

"I hear it's the best policy."

She glared at the Harper boy, not appreciating his relaxed personality. Humor wasn't what she wanted right now, not when two parents were looking for their kids, and she was harboring them. The teenage girl felt guilty, and hated to think of her father catching wind of this and becoming disappointed. "Then why don't you just tell the truth?"

"Wake up Jason, Roy."

"_You_ wake him up._ I_ don't want to get sucker punched."

"He won't hit you."

"He hit _you_, and you're his _brother_!"

Dick heaved a frustrated sigh and walked over to where Jason lay. He gave the couch a kick. "Get up, Jason!"

Nothing.

"Jays, we're in trouble, so get up and help us out here." Dick could see that Jason was still completely fast asleep, which was somewhat surprising to him. Usually his brother was quick to wake up, especially when somebody was around. Reaching out, Dick shook his little brother's arm. "JASON!"

"_Whoa_!" Jason jerked up so quickly it made Dick stumble back and Barbara jumped from surprise. But as quickly as he had sat up, the teenager fell over, tumbling onto the floor with a yelp. He groaned and slowly forced himself back up. "What the fuck are wh…?"

"You mean _where_ the fuck are we. Barbara Gordon's apartment." Dick answered slowly, making a face at Jason's clumsiness. "Do you remember coming here?"

Jason just groaned. It was clear he wasn't doing so well. He was aware, he was awake, but he was totally and completely still out of sorts.

* * *

Ok, it was fair to say that Bruce Wayne was a little upset. Upset more then a little, actually. He was really upset, with some slight embarrassment as well. (It wasn't a good feeling at all). Dick and Jason had left around nine thirty, and that was just fine. He could deal with allowing them to stay out till eleven, after all – they had said they were only going to go show Roy around the city. True, he never specified a time, but then again they were sixteen and fifteen years old! Did he really have to remind them each time they went out? They knew the rules, they were big boys.

This was ridiculous.

It was almost five in the morning now and they weren't answering their phones. Driving around the city, calling friends, trying to get any help … nobody seemed able to tell them anything. So, exhausted, they drove back to the house.

Ollie was getting a bit restless, saying he wasn't tired enough to sleep, but Bruce could tell he was worried. And who wouldn't be if their kid was in some strange city with two teenage boys that he hardly knew? "Maybe I should try calling Dinah, see if Roy tried to call back home or anything."

Bruce nodded; it was all he could honestly do. He had apologized a billion times, and he had called Dick and Jason's phones twice that amount. There wasn't much more to do now then just wait up will Ollie until they got back. He listened to the call being made, listened to the slight concern in his friend's voice as he told Dinah not to worry.

"It's not like this has never happened before. You know Roy, he just forgets sometimes. He's probably just got his phone turned off." A pause. "No, don't worry. I'm sorry I woke up, go back and get some rest. I'll call you in the morning; tell you about what time we should be getting back home. Ok?"

Bruce walked over to the window, peering out into the night and hoping to see headlights coming down the drive. He wasn't lucky.

"I love you too, baby. We'll talk real soon. Night." He clicked the phone off and sighed, uneasy. "She's worried now. It was a bad idea to call her. Well, Bruce, one thing is for sure – these kids sure aren't using their brains tonight."

"…I am sorry that they're being so irresponsible. I don't know what they're thinking, why they thought this would be ok."

"Hey, it's Roy too." He paused and ran a hand through his hair, shrugging. "You're worried that it's your boys, but in all honesty I can probably assure you Roy has a lot more to do with this then you're thinking."

Bruce had thought about that actually. He knew Jason would pull something like this, but usually Dick was so responsible. Sure, a little childish and immature at times, but never irresponsible. Not like this. Either way, he was the oldest, he was in charge. "Well, maybe it wouldn't hurt to go-." He stopped talking and tilted his head, listening. "Do you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

The billionaire took a few steps back, the noise getting stronger until he realized … "Tim's phone." He hurried towards the stairs, knowing that only four people could call that number. Alfred, Bruce, Dick, and Jason – every other number had been blocked. By the time he was on the second floor the phone was already done ringing and Bruce cursed under his breath. He still went into the eight-year-old's room and turned on the light. To his surprise Tim was sitting in bed, on the phone. "Who is that Timothy?"

Tim looked disoriented. "Dickie."

"Give me the phone." Bruce reached out and took it from the child. "Richard John Grayson." It was all he could say, he was so infuriated. If Dick could call Tim's phone that meant his phone had to be working, meaning he would have seen that his guardian had called many, _many_ times.

"…Hey Dad."

"Get home right this instant."

"…Yeah, we're on our way. Sorry, we just got a little held up and, you know, didn't realize how late it was and-."

"I am so disappointed in you and Jason. I don't want to hear your excuses; you're far old enough to be able to be home by curfew _especially_ when you have a friend with you whose _parent_ has been up worrying all night." Bruce paused and he could tell Dick was worried now by the silence. "I don't believe what you've done. Get home now." He hung up and looked at Tim, steady. "Had he called you before?"

The child was scared, his chin quivering from the anger his guardian had displayed. "No."

"Good."

"Where are Jays and Dick?"

"They're coming home. Go back to sleep, Tim."

"…Isn't Roy with them?"

Bruce turned off the light. "Yes."

"And Mr. Queen isn't happy then. Dad?"

"What?"

"Don't let Mr. Queen yell too much, ok?"

Bruce just closed the door, letting Tim figure things out for himself.

Dick, Jason, and Roy were home in less than twenty minutes. Bruce and Ollie both relieved that they would finally be able to go to sleep now. Though, Bruce's relief didn't outweigh their anger, which was for certain. Ollie actually surprised Bruce in a way, making the billionaire wonder if the Star City resident wasn't a bit bipolar – that, or just honestly relieved to see Roy.

"ROY!" He welcomed the teenager with a hug, about chocking the red-head. "Dinah's going to be happy to hear that you're ok!"

"Yeah, it was just an accident." Roy was saying. "But Gotham's a pretty awesome city. Dick and Jason were awesome tour guides. We went to this Ihop to eat and talk and before we knew it the time had flown by."

Bruce didn't believe that for a second. He stared down his boys as they got out of the car. Or well, tried to. Dick was very cautious, his shoulders hunched and his head hanging. He only briefly looked at his guardian, and then quickly looked back away. For whatever reason he was helping Jason, as if the fifteen-year-old were ill or … "What's wrong with Jason?"

"Nothing." Dick whispered. He was blushing. "Why?"

"Because you're helping him like he's going to fall down."

"I'm not going to fall down, dad." Jason snapped, he swayed a little with his words. "I'm just not feeling so great is all."

Bruce walked over to the two, far from stupid. He knew Ollie and Roy were watching, but that was fine. "You've been drinking, haven't you?"

"Where would I get alcohol, dad? I'm fifteen."

"Richard?"

Dick wasn't making eye contact at first, but slowly he forced himself to face his guardian. "Roy was telling the truth, dad. I'm serious."

"Then why didn't you return _my_ calls? Why did you see it fit to call Tim's phone this late? Why didn't any of you have your phone's on?"

"Because we were in restaurant. It's rude to have your phone's on, you know?" Jason looked between everyone. "It's late, and I'm real tired. Can we just pick this up in the morning?"

Ollie agreed with that suggestion. "We should probably get some rest, seeing as we have to get up for our flight rather early."

So they all headed into the house. Roy, Dick and Jason said their goodbyes, saying how they should hang out again, and that Roy could come back to visit whenever. Bruce wasn't so sure about that.

_To Be Continued …_


	14. Chapter 14

"I'm gaining strength, trying to learn to pull my own weight. I'm gaining pounds at the precipice of too late – just wait. And I could be good, and I would, if I knew I was understood. And it'll be great, just wait – or is it too little too late?"

Too Little Too Late - Bare Naked Ladies

_**You Do Good, You Find Good**_

**By: **The BatThing (Cas)

**Chapter Fourteen:**

"This is so gay. Tim, I hate to say it but … you might grow up to be a homosexual." That earned Jason a well deserved smack to the back of his head. He jumped a little, surprised at first, but then scowled as he rubbed the sore skin. "What was that for? We all know it's true!"

Bruce Wayne didn't look humored in the least. He just quirked his eyebrow, an expression he'd been working on for years: _disdain_.

They were outside, enjoying the weather as it were. A summer day in Gotham City usually took all the wind out of you. It was hot. It was sticky. It was, in short, miserable. Going from your car to the house was more then enough 'outside' with the temperature highs. Though, come night, at the right hour, things would start to cool down. Sometimes you could literally see it, in a mist rising from the ground. Over water. It had a smell to it, a summer smell.

And things other then cicadas would come out to have a look around. Tonight, Tim, Jason, and Bruce were joining the many others. Bruce had taken tomorrow off in honor of Tim's ninth birthday. Well, actually Alfred had taken it off for him, but whatever. So, in honor of this rare occasion of not having work tomorrow, he had decided (or Alfred had suggested) that they go out and have some 'fun'.

Dick had already had other plans and hurried away, thankful to escape the embarrassment of hanging out with his family. Sure, it was fine 'one-on-one'.

Bruce was an icon, and Dick loved walking around with the billionaire. It made him feel like the Shit.

And Jason was his brother. They might not always get along, but usually they did ok. They were basically on the same level, so they could do the same things, talk normally, gossip, point out hot girls – stuff like that.

And Tim? Well, Tim had his upside as well. And it was starting to come out more and more as time progressed. There was still that 'baby' in him, but the past few months he seemed more grown-up. He didn't cry as much. He didn't tattle on his brothers over everything. He fought with Bruce, and muttered under his breath to Alfred. Tantrums were less as well (which was amazing).

But put all three together for the night? NO. FUCKING. WAY. Who went out with their whole family? What teenager found that fun? Nobody. That was your answer. Nobody found it fun. So Dick had escaped.

Jason, sadly, who still had to take his Driving Test, didn't really have an excuse. So, despite complaints and glares, he'd been forced to come along.

So, here they were, walking around in a little hidden rut in Gotham. They were acting like tourists, going into different shops, seeing the sights, eating snacks from street vendors. They had been making their way down the sidewalk, headed toward a small store that Tim had pointed out. It had used games, videos, music, toys, stuff like that. It was then that the soon to be nine-year-old squealed with delight and ran off, leaving a confused Bruce and Jason.

"TIMOTHY!" Bruce had yelled, going after the child, knowing full well Jason would follow. They found Tim squatted down beside a cardboard box filled with kittens, an elderly woman talking to him, trying to get him to take one home.

It was then that Jason had said the offended comment that earned a smack to the back of his head, which he now rubbed. "It is true." He repeated to Bruce.

"Timothy, you aren't getting a cat. Come on."

"But I'm just looking." Tim cooed, reaching in a stroking a kitten's head. "No harm in looking, right?"

"That's right. You're allowed to look as much as you want." The woman was saying, hopeful that they'd take a kitten and leave ten dollars. "You probably have a lot of pets at home, don't you?"

Tim shook his head, picking up a squirming kitten. "Don't have any."

"Timothy." Bruce repeated, a little more stern. "I thought you wanted to go into that shop and look around?"

The eight-year-old just shrugged and stood up, snuggling the kitten to his chest. He looked over at Jason and then held out the kitten to his older brother. "Hold it! It's soft!"

"I don't hold kittens." And yet he accepted it. He held it by the skin on it's neck and looked it in the eyes, which upset Tim.

"You're hurting it!"

"This is how you hold kittens, Tim."

"No it's not! You hold them like babies!"

"Only if you're gay."

"Jason, stop it." Bruce snapped. He didn't like this old woman. He knew what she was up to and he didn't like it. "We need to get going." He groaned as Tim picked up another kitten. "Put them away, boys."

Jason nodded and started to put it back, deciding that he didn't mind kittens that much. Not that he'd ever admit to that.

"Tim? We're waiting."

Tim sighed and handed it back to the older woman, a disappointed look in his eyes. "You have nice cats, misses."

"Thank you. I'm sorry you couldn't take one to a good home. Hopefully somebody will before I have to send them all to the pond."

A startled look and Tim was taken by his hand and dragged away. "She's just trying to con you into taking a cat, Tim. Don't worry." Bruce said.

"I'm getting hungry, Dad." Tim offered as they passed a restaurant. "Can't we stop and get something to eat soon?"

"You've already had a hamburger, fries, and a hotdog, enough to drink, and candy. You can't be that hungry. Alfred would have a fit if he knew everything you were eating."

Jason was making a point to only step on green bricks.

"How about cotton candy?"

"Where are we going to find cotton candy?" It was Gotham City, Bruce realized that was a stupid question to ask. They'd just have to look and he knew they'd find some nasty recreation of the candy. "How about you pick out one more thing to eat before we head home, ok? It's almost ten, and way past your bedtime."

Tim was pleased to hear that. He wiggled his hand out of Bruce's and fell back to walk with his brother. "Jays and I'll think it through!"

"Think it through fast."

"I don't care. It's your birthday." Jason answered before even being asked. He saw a hooker and nudged Tim. "Tell Dad you want that for your birthday."

Bruce put his arm around Jason's neck and took him into a head lock, ducking down so he could tell his middle child just what he thought of that. "Consider this your last warning of the night. Cross me again and I'll tell Alfred what you've said. You can get a reacquainted with soap and your room."

Trying to break away from his guardian, but not winning at this battle, Jason struggled. "It's not like he's a baby. He knows what a hooker is! Le'me go!"

"I know what it is, Dad."

"Then show some respect, alright? Don't joke about it."

They passed her up, and when out of earshot Jason snorted. "Show respect? She's a prostitute! What kind of respect is there to show?"

"_Hey_. You know better then that." The billionaire had stopped and turned on Jason, pointing a finger. "I _know_ you know better then that. You show her just as much respect as you'd show anyone else. Just because you don't agree with what somebody does, doesn't mean you mock them." HE started walking again. "And in most of those cases those women don't have a choice. It's a lifestyle they've fallen prey to."

Jason made a face at Tim, who hid a laugh.

"Where do you guys want to go before home? Last chance."

"Ice cream!"

* * *

"HERE I GO AGAIN ON MY OWN! GOING DOWN THE ONLY ROAD I'VE EVER KNOWN!" Tim had the song almost perfectly memorized, especially the chorus. Whenever he went in Bruce's car he'd get this CD down, 'cause it was the most 'cool'. He was full of ice cream and good things, full of excitement for his birthday, full of tiredness – and that just made it better.

"The rule was no singing!"

"Sooooorry."

"No you're not. You're doing it on purpose. You're doing it to be annoying. I only agreed to let you listen to this stupid song 'cause it's your birthday. So no more singing!" Jason heaved a sigh and turned back around in his seat.

They got home, Alfred telling Bruce that Dick had called and asked to stay out a little longer then his curfew, which was currently set at 11:30. "Should be fine." Bruce answered with a shrug, handing Tim the bag of odds and end he had ended up buying. "Take your stuff upstairs."

Alfred was giving him a look.

"Am I wrong?"

Tim took the plastic bag with a thank you and ran up the stairs after Jason, screaming at the top of his lungs because he was happy.

"I was under the impression that you were going to the Gotham Fairground for Master Timothy's birthday tomorrow."

"…Yes?"

"And Master Richard already doesn't want to attend. I hardly think little sleep will encourage his mood."

"Well, should he have to go? I mean, so long as he's there for cake and presents and part of the day, I don't mind if he doesn't come to ride some kiddies rides and eat a bunch of junk food."

Alfred just gave a little incline of the head.

"You disagree?"

"No. Actually, Master Bruce, I'm rather impressed. I believe you've made a good judgment. My only concern is one thing."

"What's that?"

"Master Timothy is lacking in the area of friends."

Bruce nodded. This wasn't new. He'd been aware of that for years now. "Jason will be there."

Alfred gave yet another look.

"What?"

"Master Jason accompanied you tonight, and with little complaint. I doubt he'll find it fair if Master Richard is excused yet again and he is not."

That was true. Well, besides the 'little complaint' part it was true. "So Dick needs to come."

"What do you think, Master Bruce?"

That was a trick question.

* * *

Dick was thankful when he got the call from Bruce telling him he couldn't stay out later. Now, had his guardian called just ten minutes earlier, things would have been different. But that was because ten minutes early Katie hadn't tried to kiss him. Not that having Katie kiss him was really a problem because … Katie was hot. It was just that there was another girl: Barbara.

It was bad.

What was wrong with him? Barbara was three years older. She was out of his league. She made it clear she wasn't interested. And yet … he couldn't help how he felt. No other girl could hold a match to what he felt for the commissioner's daughter. Perhaps it was the fact that he couldn't date her, but he strongly doubted that. He pegged it on true love that was meant to be. Clearly this was destiny.

So, ten minutes before Bruce called, Dick had made up his mind to totally devote himself to Barbara. They were now hanging out as friends about once every other week, and they talked online almost every night. She even would call him sometimes with problems, or if she was bored. That was something. It was enough.

And so, when Katie had made her move he pulled away, a shamed look. "Listen, Katie … we're good friends."

Her whole expression changed, along with her attitude. She knew where this was headed. She just hadn't expected it. Ever since before Christmas she had been working on getting Dick Grayson to make a move, and he never had. But she had always gotten the impression he was interested. So what was up with this? "You're gay?"

"…What?! No! I'm not gay! Why would you think that? Who said that?!"

"Nobody said it, but you're a guy and I'm a girl. And we're both single."

"I'm not gay."

"…This was a stupid idea." She muttered, upset and a little hurt. Very hurt. It was bad enough to find out the feelings weren't mutual, but what was worse is that she had gone for the kiss. She had been the one rejected. She HATED being rejected.

The annoying ringtone began playing and Dick about fainted in relief. "That's my dad. Hold on a second." It was then that he was told to come home and it was then that he decided that it was perfect kismet. He was meant to be with Barbara Gordon, even if he was the only one who knew it.

* * *

"You got here quick. It's only eleven ten." Bruce closed his book when Dick walked through the Sitting Room, probably heading upstairs. The billionaire gave a small tilt of the head. "Did you have fun tonight?"

"…Yeah. I guess so. How about you guys? Did Tim have a fun pre-birthday?"

"I'm fairly certain." Bruce gave a stiff smile to his eldest and the reopened his book, returning to his nightly reading before he'd turn into bed for the night. Dick lingered in the room and then walked towards his guardian, taking a seat beside the man.

"Can I ask you a question, Dad?"

"Yeah."

"Ok. It's like this. Let's say you like this girl, right? But she's not in your league, you know what I mean? She's pretty. She's smart. She's fun." He paused. "And she's sort of made it clear she's not interested."

Bruce was thinking of different ways he could leave. Not that Dick's problems were boring, but this wasn't serious. This was teenager stuff. "If she's not interested and you know that then I'd say back off. Leave it be."

"Well, what if you're sure that you're destined to be together?"

"Destined?"

Dick nodded, folding his legs underneath him and taking Bruce's book to flip through. "Yeah. Like, fate."

"You believe in fate and destiny?"

"…Do you?"

"No."

"You don't believe that things happen for a reason?"

"Everything happens, and there's a reason for it happening – but it's nothing magical. Not the kind of destiny that you're thinking of, at least. … Is this girl, by chance, anyone I know?" Bruce folded his arms across his chest. He wasn't an idiot. He knew what was going on in his house, despite his lack of being there. Alfred had told him of Dick's newfound friendship with the commissioner's daughter.

Dick smiled a little, putting the book on the table before them. "Well, yeah."

"Barbara Gordon is in college, chum. I'm pretty sure that the age barrier is going to be hard to break through. Sixteen is a big difference compared to nineteen."

"A lot of people I know are married to people who are older then them! I don't see any problem."

"Yes, but it's like I said, sixteen, and in high school, is very different from nineteen, and in college. It's a matter of experience and a matter of maturity. You're still a kid and she's almost an adult. No offense, but you've still got some growing-up to do."

Dick did take offense to that. "So does she. Far as I can tell she still acts like me."

The billionaire just shrugged and ruffled Dick's hair. "I don't think Barbara Gordon is a very good idea. Just keep that in mind."

"Why isn't she a good idea?"

"…Well, age first off. Secondly, she's Commissioner Gordon's daughter. Thirdly, age. And fourthly, age. Then, finally, she's already made it clear she's not interested."

Dick just muttered under his breath. "Three years isn't that much."

"You should be in bed, Dick."

The sixteen year old slunk down a little, unhappy with that command. He didn't like hearing the bedtime order. It made him feel like he was a kid, and he really wasn't. He watched Bruce take the book back and open it, picking up right where he left off. For a long time they just sat in silence. Bruce reading and Dick thinking. About an hour later it was Bruce reading and Dick sleeping, snuggled up comfortable against his guardian and the couch, breathing heavily.

The billionaire made a point to move slowly so he could get up without waking the teenager. He carefully lifted Dick up just slightly so he could slip away. He was covering the child with a blanket when Dick shifted a little and weakly opened his eyes. "Dad?"

"Go back to sleep."

"…I love Barbara." He admitted, drowsy. "And one day she'll love me back."

"Not too fast, Dick."

* * *

"Happy birthday to … not you!"

Dick shifted a little, pulling the blankets closer so he could hide away from Jason. He didn't know much, drugged in the state of sleep, but he did know that his brother was annoying him. "Mooah maay."

"I don't know what that means." Jason had come down the stairs, more then pleased to see Dick fast asleep on the couch. He had been waiting, checking his older brother's room, and finally decided to go down and get something to eat.

It was nearing two in the morning now.

"Come on, Dick. Get u, you fucker. I've been stuck at home with Tim and Dad and Alfred all night. I had to be Tim's best friend, you know. You snuck away, don't think I'm not holding that one against you, 'cause I am: holding it against up, that is." Jason was thoughtful for a moment, and then plopped down, crushing his brother's legs and not caring. He was pleased when Dick gave a kick. It was a sign of life, and that counted for something. "Come on, Grayson – make it up to me."

Dick didn't use words to communicate, but he did communicate. It was with a certain finger, and it expressed exactly what he was feeling.

Jason just laughed, because that was funny.

What Dick wanted was sleep and dreams. There was nothing better then enjoying a nice dream. He groaned, a warning, something that Jason didn't take with a grain of salt.

"You know, tomorrow we have to go to some stupid festival or something. It's your worst possible nightmare come to life. Timothy Drake Day. It's like a holiday that nobody wants, but yet we have it each year. I don't understand."

"_What_ do you _want_, Jason?!" Dick flipped the afghan off so he could properly glare at his brother. It was one thing to wake Dick up, but it was totally another to keep at it and not take a hint. He noticed Jason flinch a little and at once Dick softened up a little, feeling guilty and maybe a bit … well, mean. He knew he was a bad morning person. "Are you sick or something?" He offered, trying to make it a little better.

"Why? Do I look sick?"

"No." Groaning a little, Dick pulled himself to sit up. He squared his shoulders for a moment, took in the situation, and took in his surroundings. It was almost two now. There was the sound of rain outside. Hard. Possibly a lot of wind too, the way the house creaked back and forth. "What are you doing up? Can't you sleep."

"I can sleep. You kidding me?"

"…Fine." Dick purposely rolled to the floor, kind of just morphing there. He shot up, suddenly, so much energy from almost nowhere. Sporting a smile, impish and conspiring almost, he jerked his head towards the window. "Let's go."

"Go? Go where?"

"Outside? You're wanting to do something so bad. Come on then."

"…I wanted to wake you up, and I did just that. Serves you right for leaving me all alone at home tonight. Now I can go back to sleep since I got my revenge. Goodnight." Jason got up and started to walk away only to be caught by the arm. He turned and looked at his older brother with a frown. "I'm not going outside. It's wet. It's raining. Two things that don't mix – wet and Jason Todd."

"You're like a creature."

"…" Jason honestly didn't know how to reply to that.

"Come on, Jays. Where's the harm in getting wet? You shower, don't you?" Dick pulled on the arm yet again. "It's not like we'll drown or die from cold. It's summer. It's like swimming in a pool."

So, outside they went. Jason shivered for a little bit of the dramatic effect, but Dick didn't take much of a notice. They set off on the path leading them back towards the small grave site. Not to see the graves, but because it was a pleasant path, and it also happened to lead towards the drop off, where they'd be able to see the ocean.

It smelled like rain. Like wet dirt, worms, and fresh. It smelled like a summer rain. Dick did almost all of the talking, almost ADHD with it too. He'd go from one subject to another subject, then remember he hadn't finished a story, try to finish it, and then remember something else and … it would be impossible to follow for a stranger. Fortunately Jason had years of practice under his belt. He could understand hyper Dick, even if he couldn't speak it.

They came to the precipice and just stood there, admiring the blinding sight of rain hitting the water face of the ocean. Neither really admitted to it though, they just were silent. A sudden roar of thunder came from admittedly nowhere, startling Dick, and making Jason turn to see where it came from. He was just thankful there was no lightening in sight … yet. "We'd better get home." Dick said, knowing that it wasn't the smartest thing to be out and about if a bad storm hit. Especially not standing on a cliff.

"You scared of the thunder, Dickie?"

"So scared."

"I know, shit-head."

"You're one to talk."

Jason rolled his eyes and gave his brother a little friendly shove, which he received right back. The two got into a little wrestling match, punching, shoving, bruising – all in good boyish fun. The rain just made it better for some reason. Jason ended up pinned, uncomfortable against the rocky ground. "Ok, let me up."

Dick considered, obviously taking his time thinking it through. "Doesn't it suck to be the weakling? And to think, I'm smaller then you! Guess size isn't everything."

"You got lucky!" Jason snapped, and with that gave his brother a hefty shove, an attempt to force him off. It worked. Dick fell back, a little surprised, trying his best to calculate how to fall with minimal damage. He ended up scrapping his palms on the rock.

Right away Jason was up, attacking him again, relentless in the play. Finding the game finally going in his direction. He had the advantage now; he might as well take it. Moving fast, pushing Dick back down, he gave a laugh. After all, it was all in good fun.

Even when Dick flipped him off, it was in good fun. The outcome was just … unexpected and completely unwanted. They weren't paying enough attention was all. They weren't being responsible. They weren't thinking things through. Rain made the rocks slick. They were playing right near the edge. Accidents happened here so often, Tim wasn't even allowed to come out alone because stuff happened.

And so when Jason was flipped by Dick, it wasn't meant to be harmful. It just happened. He went down, hitting a bit of stone, and rolled down an incline. He gave a bit of a gasp, knowing that the incline led right down, so he scrambled in an attempt to stop himself. After all, when the stone was dry, it was easy to do.

When his hands proved worthless his nails struck rock, clawing as they tried to stop the fall.

Dick was responding quickly as well. He lunged after Jason, grabbing his brother's hand for a moment, but snarling as the grip was lost.

Jason's ankle struck something, and for a moment his descent was stopped, but there was a sudden pain in his leg. He knew it wasn't anything broken, but it still hurt. He clung to the rock all around him, for dear life.

"DON'T MOVE!" Dick screamed, now a few feet above. He was frantic. "I'm coming down!"

Jason didn't know what his brother was talking about. Come down? What good would that do? "DON'T! Are you STUPID?!"

"…Are you hurt?"

"M'fine." Jason lied. The pain in his ankle was searing, burning. He started to feel foolish, clinging to the rock in the pouring rain. What would happen if they were caught out here? What would people say? Probably call them both idiots. "We're idiots."

"…Give me your hand!" Dick dropped to his belly and reached down for his brother. "You can just crawl back up!"

Moving wasn't exactly a comforting thought. It had been so hard to stop the fall that leaving his position just seemed plain dumb. Yet, staying out here seemed like a far worse plan. He took in a deep breath and then slowly inched his arm up, careful. Careful. His hand was in Dick's now. "I think that if I move I'm going to fall." He admitted. "This could end badly."

"I've got you. I swear you'll be fine, Jays. Won't let you fall."

"No offense, but I don't really think that's going to do a whole lot." Jason muttered. Dick was so gay. He talked like an idiot when he got scared. So sentimental or something. "Ok. Here goes nothing." He started to move up, and his ankle hurt all the more. It was twisted. He could tell. It was with his second motion to get further up that he slipped yet again, and this time Dick was the only thing holding him secure. There was no little rock or groove or branch. Just his brother. "SHIT!"

"_SHIT_!"

Jason freaked for a moment, which didn't make it easy on Dick. He felt himself going down and found Dick slipping slowly down the slope as well. "You're slipping!"

Dick was struggling to pull him up. The kid was strong. It was just … Jason was now almost all dead weight, and when he struggled it made things worse. Why had they come out here? Whose stupid idea had it been? _Oh_ _yeah_. This was _all_ Dick's fault. "Stop moving!"

"I CAN'T!" He felt nothingness where his feet were, meaning he was at the end of the slope. This wasn't good. Jason desperately looked around for something to grab hold of and dug his fingers into the rock face. They held, stopping him enough. He let go of Dick's hand and used it to cling all the more to the rock. "Let's not try that again. Ok? No more trying."

Dick was covered in mud, looking down at his brother, who was now further away. "ARE YOU OK?!"

"Fine for now."

"…How long can you last like that?"

"…" Jason knew what that meant. Dick was going to run and get help. _Shit._ It wasn't like there were a thousand other options though. "I'll be fine. Just run, ok? And make sure that Dad doesn't think we're idiots. Make the story good."

Dick was already running back to the house, leaving Jason a bit scared and very wet. The minutes dragged. The seconds dragged. His fingers were hurting, and his ankle seemed to be getting worse. There were also new pains starting up now too, like his chest and his shoulders. His chin and the left side of his face. Maybe he'd hurt himself more then he realized in the fall down.

Five minutes passed, it felt like twenty.

Ten minutes passed – it felt like an hour.

Fifteen minutes now, and he could hear somebody coming back. Jason shivered. "DICK?!"

Nothing. Not a sound. Where did Dick go? Where was his help? Jason shifted a little only to slip all the more, and this time he gave a little yelp – honestly scared for his life. His fingertips were tearing apart – they had to be.

"JASON!" So far away.

"DICK!" Jason shrieked. "M'FALLING!" He was hyperventilating almost, scared out of his wits. This wasn't any way to die. This wasn't … well, not what he wanted at least.

"JASON!" Bruce was suddenly there. He dropped down to his stomach and grabbed one of the fifteen-year-old's wrists, his grasp so tight it was painful. And as soon as Jason felt the pain it only grew worse as he was jerked immediately upward. He yelped in pain. Another hand was now under his arm, then holding a handful of his shirt. He was being heaved up awkwardly, furiously almost. It didn't matter though. In a few seconds he was up top, looking at the ground. He was on the ground. He was on solid, flat ground.

Dick was chattering, nervous. "Youok? Went asfast asIcould. Iwassoscaredthatiwastoolate!"

Jason huffed a little, raising his head to look at his brother, happy to see him. Happy not to be in harms way. Yet, before much else could happen, things were already spinning out of control again. Bruce was making Jason move, pulling and prodding at him, making sure the he was ok. Asking questions, if this hurt or it that hurt, and visibly wincing at each new wound uncovered.

"Look at this!" Bruce lifted Jason's hands, seeing them raw and bloody at the fingertips where rock and flesh obviously didn't mix. "Look at this, Richard."

Jason gave a start, not expecting to hear Dick dragged into this. After all, it had been both their faults.

"I didn't mean for-."

"You weren't thinking." Bruce wasn't yelling, but his words were frightful. His tone was distressing. "Jason could have died. You both could have died because of this stupid lack of judgment."

Dick was quietly taking the verbal bashing. "Yes."

Jason wanted so badly to say something. The look on his older brother's face was … well, he didn't like it.

"You're grounded. Just go home now. Go home and go to bed. I'll take Jason home."

"…" Dick slowly began to back up. There was obvious hurt, and he didn't want to leave his brother there. But he wasn't about ready to make things worse by staying. Thus far it was clear he was going to be getting the brunt of Bruce's wrath, and he was oddly ok with that. After all Dick was the one who suggested they go outside. Jason hadn't even wanted to. And Dick had been the one to flip him off, causing him to fall, making him get hurt. "I'm sorry Jays." He managed, then turned and headed back down the path.

Watching him go, Jason shook his head. He managed to get up, grinding his teeth in pain. His head hurt so badly. His hands hurt. His ankle hurt. Everything was hurting now and he didn't have the energy to walk to long cold path back to the house. It seemed so … impossible. "I don't feel good." He admitted.

"Let's just get you to a doctor."

_To be continued…_


	15. Chapter 15

"We spotted the ocean at the head of the trail. Where are we going, so far away? Somebody told me: '_This is the place where everything's better, and everything's safe.'_ Walk on the ocean, step on the stone. Flesh becomes water, wood becomes bone. Half an hour later we packed up our things, said we'd send letters, and all of those little things. They knew we were lying, but they smiled just the same. It seemed they'd already forgotten we'd came. Now back at the homestead, where the air makes you choke. People don't know you and the trust is a joke. We don't even have pictures, just memories to hold."

**Toad the Wet Sprocket **_Walk on the Ocean_

_**You Do Good, You Find Good**_

**By: **The BatThing

**Chapter Fifteen:**

The trip home, for Jason at least, was rather painful. He refused any help from Bruce because that was far below him. _Please_. He'd much rather make things worse then help them along, especially if it meant seeking assistance.

"I can't believe you let Dick talk you into going outside with him in this weather." Bruce muttered for what seemed the hundredth time. Thunder was rolling in now, quickly. Lightening could be seen from time to time, drawing ever closer. "I can't believe the pair of you."

Jason didn't argue. He was actually a little curious as to why he wasn't in _more_ trouble. After all, Dick had been yelled at and then grounded, sent straight home. Jason, on the other hand, was just getting the occasional side comment, but mostly it involved how the whole situation had been Dick's fault. Like maybe Jason had been forced into it. "It was an accident."

"Are you alright?"

Jason nodded, limping slowly behind. He picked his pace up so Bruce wouldn't try and help him. "It wasn't like Dick pushed me off the cliff and then laughed about it. It was just one of those things."

Bruce was quiet. He reached out towards Jason and helped him along a little, only to get shoved away. "You're walking slowly. We need to get out of this rain and get some ice on that ankle. Who knows what else is wrong with you, between all the blood and mud, it's hard to see anything."

They got home, perhaps a little later then Bruce would have liked, but they did get there. Bruce led Jason straight into the closest bathroom and began to run sink water, getting a wash cloth wet and giving it to the young man. "Clean up. I'm going to get some ice and bandages."

Jason accepted the wash cloth and watched his guardian go, curious. Usually Bruce just sent for Alfred to take care of these things. Oh well, whatever. He pulled off his jacket and his shirt, wincing a little as the fabric rubbed against his sore chest and stomach. He was banged up all over, it seemed.

He cleaned away almost all of the mud and grime, and made it easier to see directly where he was actually hurt and where he was just dirty. Bruce came back and muttered something about Alfred going to have a fit. He gave Jason one of the packs of ice, and then used masking tape and a towel to put the other one around his ankle. "Put it on your face. We don't want you bruising up there." He ordered.

They set to using iodine, and then putting on various bandages. Once that was done and finished they headed upstairs (which was quite the task.) It seemed to take forever, but they did it. Jason said goodnight and went right to bed, hoping Bruce would leave him alone.

The billionaire did for the moment. He had plans to go get some Vicodin for Jason, knowing full well that a peaceful sleep wasn't going to be very easy without some assistance. He got some water and the pill and returned to Jason's bedroom. The light was still on and Jason was lying across his bed, sound asleep. He wasn't even under the covers or changed into clean pajama pants. "Jays, get up for a moment and take this."

Two smoky blue eyes slowly opened and Jason looked at Bruce. He sat up and took the glass of water and pill, swallowing it without question. Either he knew what it was or he just didn't care. "What are you doing?"

Bruce pulled out a pair of pajama pants and handed them to the teenager. "Change out of those wet, muddy clothes, ok? You'll feel better. Can I trust you to do that?"

"Yeah."

"Ok. Goodnight." He was able to ruffled Jason's hair without getting shoved away or yelled at, and then left the room. His next mission was to apologize. He went to Dick's bedroom door and rapped against the wood, but not answer was given. He tried again only to get more silence. Slowly he entered.

The bathroom light was on, and Dick wasn't in bed.

"Richard?" He called.

There was a clatter from the bathroom and in a few seconds the bathroom door opened and Dick appeared, a shamed and bashful look. "I was just cleaning up. I was headed straight for bed. I swear."

"Are you ok?"

"…Yeah?"

"I think I owe you an apology. I guess I was just … startled, mostly scared. It wasn't the best situation to wake up to, and I understand it was an accident. I just overreacted." He paused, taking a closer look at Dick. "You're hurt?"

Dick's hands were visibly cut up. No where near as bad as Jason's, but still soiled. "Uhm, just a little. Nothing as bad as Jason. …How is he?"

"Asleep, I'm sure. I gave him a pain pill; he's just banged up all over. I imagine it's working pretty fast." He saw in Dick's expression that the boy was feeling guilty. Well, maybe he deserved that and maybe he didn't. "Jason wanted to go with you. You didn't drag him out there. Ok? And we all know you didn't push him off the cliff with the intent for him to die."

Dick nodded weakly. "He didn't want to go though."

"But he did go. Just your hands are hurt?"

"My chest and knees are a little." He caught himself and then frowned. "I'm fine though, Dad."

"You want anything for the pain?"

"…No." He shook his head. "I'm fine."

Bruce gave a dumb smile, awkward, yet he gave it just the same. Then, muttered a 'sleep tight', he turned away, leaving the room back in the dark, closing the door behind him.

Waiting, patiently, quietly, and a bit thoughtfully, Dick listened to the nightly noises from his open window. He lay in bed, atop the covers, not in need of them. It was warm enough.

Outside the rain was dying away, moving on to bigger and better things. A few scattered showers followed behind, but in half an hour's time it had long disappeared, leaving behind an intensified outdoor smell.

Dick made his way out of his room, headed to where he knew Jason was probably sound asleep. But it didn't matter. He had to just make sure everything _was_ ok. Pushing open the door, he crept on inside, barefoot, not making any noise. It was when he climbed on his brother's bed that Jason awoke. "Hey."

"…Oh. It's you."

"Yeah, it's me. Are you ok?"

Jason made a noise of agreement. Yes. He felt just fine. Better then fine actually, thanks to the pain medication. "Thanks."

"For what?"

"Saving me."

"I didn't save you. Dad did."

"Bet you ran your ass off all the way home and back to get him."

That was true. Dick just smiled and shook his head, running his hand on the covers. "Well, it was easier then telling dad you were dead. Figured the extra effort was worth it. Not that I'd mind you dead."

Jason gave a chuckle, motionless. "I feel so good."

"Yeah, heard you got the good stuff."

"I think I'm floating."

"…I bet this means you'll get out of going to Tim's birthday celebration."

Jason laughed again. "Man, I'm _so_ glad I fell and not you. Things are working out _pretty_ well."

"I'm happy for you." Dick was being sarcastic, and he sighed, sensing Jason was falling back asleep. He got up and started to leave when his brother caught him off guard with the ever familiar Romanian phrase.

"Bine faci, bine gasesti … right, Dick?"

"…That's right." After all, it was.

_To be continued …_


	16. Chapter 16

**Side Note: **You probably are going to realize real fast what I'm doing with this fanfiction after this chapter. Hopefully you've read 'A Death in the Family' ... if not, then it'll be a shock. Even if you have, it should still be interesting. I'm not sure how things will unfold, but I do hope they are interesting!

_**You Do Good, You Find Good**_

**By: **The BatThing (Cas)

**Chapter Sixteen:**

"I told you, I feel just fine! Shit, why you asking the same question?" Jason was a bit testy because he was hurting and lying about it. It had been bad enough that he had been hurt, but what was worse is that people were trying to baby him. He didn't like to be treated with white gloves. He, Bruce, Tim, and Dick were at the _stupid_ festival that Tim had been looking forward to for so long now.

It wasn't too bad, but it wasn't as much fun as it could have been. Pain had a way of making things that much worse. Jason's only comfort was in knowing that Dick was probably dealing with his own deal of pain as well. They had shared cuts and bruises just an hour ago, showing them off and trying to decide who was more hurt.

Jason knew he was.

Dick knew that too.

And Bruce, of course, knew it as well. That's why he kept asking. "You've been known to lie before." He answered coolly. "Watch your mouth."

"I think I'm done here." Tim suddenly said, almost out of no where. "We've rode all the rides. Can we go home now?"

"…Only if you want to, Tim. It's your birthday."

Dick and Jason exchanged hopeful glances.

"I'm sure."

They got back home and Jason offered to show Tim how to play Texas Hold 'Em. Dick sat with them, watching the lesson go on, offering bits of advice as he saw need be. Soon enough they had a little gambling session going on, both teenagers going easy on their little brother, seeing at it was his first time.

"You're picking up real fast." Dick admitted after Tim won another round. True, he was letting the kid win, but with each game, Tim seemed to be a little better. "I'm impressed."

"You guys are good too."

Jason just laughed at that. They got in another game before Alfred caught them and told them all the wrongs of gambling and drinking. Jason told him that they hadn't been drinking, and he just got a bad look.

"I have an idea." Jason whispered, seeing Alfred scooting away. "Ninja Trampoline!"

"…" Dick just made a face, confused, and wanting to stay confused. The game sounded stupid. Jason was stupid. Besides, they were hurt enough, and the trampoline meant getting banged around.

"YEAH!" Tim yelped, getting to his feet. So, the three made their way to the gym, Jason explaining the game on the way there. "The first person to get pushed down three times looses." He and Tim went first, Dick saying that he would much rather watch.

Tim tried his best, but Jason kept catching his legs and jerking the nine-year-old down. So, soon enough it was Dick's turn. The two teenagers took a while. Dick was faster then Jason was, but Jason was harder to push around. It was a good match, and the three boys laughed whenever anybody fell. Even if somebody accidentally got sucker punched, it was still fun.

Then came dinner with cake, Tim was able to blow out seven of the nine candles. Dick told him that meant he'd have two kids. Then they sat around, watching Tim open his pile of presents. In short, he got everything he had wanted and then more. They ended the day by watching one of Tim's new movies, after which Tim went upstairs to sleep. Worn from a perfect day of fun.

"Thanks for being so great with him." Bruce said, coming downstairs and finding Jason and Dick lounging on the couches. They both looked comfortable, yet bored. "And in return, I'll do you both a favor."

This caught their attention. Jason sat up a little. "Give us money?"

"Nice try."

"I don't know what else you could do to make me happy." Jason admitted.

"If you both want to go out tonight, then I'll let you stay out past curfew. So long as you call and check in." He answered. "We'll set the new time at one in the morning."

_One in the morning?!_ Dick was very pleased with this. He smiled ear to ear. "Really?! So we can go? Away from home?"

"Well, you can stay here if you'd like, but I don't know how much fun that'd be."

Jason muttered something about taking money instead, but he was ignored. He didn't really have friends like Dick had, so what was he going to do with extra time? He tried to ignore his older brother's happy chatter until he heard his name being called.

"Where do you want to go, Jays?" Dick questioned.

"Me?"

"…You."

"Don't you have friends?"

Bruce was flipping through a magazine, half listening, but pretending not to. He was a little curious as to why Dick wasn't saying goodbye and running to his friends like he usually did. This might be interesting.

"Sure I have friends, but …" But his friends were dating Katie's friends. So that meant he wouldn't be having much fun till things calmed down between him and the girl. If he could avoid them, he would. Besides, maybe he could talk Jason into going with him to see Barbara. "Thought we could do something."

This earned a suspicious look.

"What?!"

"Nothing. It's just weird that you …" Jason realized how pathetic it'd sound to say what he had been planning to say, so he stopped. "I don't care. Where do you want to go?"

* * *

"You better call Dad again; let him know we're still alive." Jason muttered. The two had just gotten out of the theater, and the movie hadn't been worth the money they had paid to see it. It was all they could do to keep themselves entertained though.

Dick had tried calling Barbara, but she wasn't answering. He hoped she just hadn't checked her phone, and that was why she hadn't returned his hall. Maybe he should try again or something? "Uhm, ok. I'll call him."

Jason listened to Dick make the call and rolled his eyes when his brother then called Barbara Gordon. "You're obsessed."

"No I'm not." Dick hung up, getting her voice mail again. "I'm just worried. She usually calls me right back."

"It could be that she's on a date?"

"…" Dick didn't like that. He hung his head a little. "She never said anything about having a boyfriend."

"It's so obvious you like her. How does she stand having a high school kid call her so much? Hey Barbara, it's me, Dick. J-just seeing if you were free? I am!"

"I don't sound like that!"

"Close enough. Maybe a little more stupid, you're right." Jason laughed when Dick hit his arm. He stepped a few feet away. "Careful, I feel off a cliff."

"And I saved you."

"Poorly. You saved me _poorly_."

"We still have two hours before we need to be home. What do you want to do?" Dick honestly didn't have any suggestions, and he sort of hoped Jason might. The longer they stayed out the bigger the chance was that Barbara would call him back and they could hang out with her. He could hope.

Jason was silent for a moment as they walked to the car, thinking on that. "Well, we could go to the Alley."

"…The Alley?"

"Don't sound so judgmental."

"I just am hoping I heard you wrong. You want to go to the Alley at eleven in the night. We're two teenagers with money on us, and we're well dressed. Our clothes are clean. We'd stand out like sore thumbs."

Jason rolled his eyes. "You might, but not me. You forget, I grew up there."

"Who could forget? You mention it every day. Proud heritage. -- Besides, what are we going to do in the Alley? What is there to do? Practicing hiding, maybe?"

"You're so funny."

"Well, I haven't a clue what you mean for us to do there."

Jason knew exactly what he wanted to be doing there. He had hated living with his father in the Alley. Those days where his dad would hurt him, trick him, abuse him … Jason _abhorred_ remembering that. So, often times, Dick, Bruce, and Alfred would wonder why he kept wanting to go back to the place with so many memories. There was so much bad in the Alley.

Jason knew that more then anyone.

He'd seen children and wives beaten and take it without a blink of any eye. That was life. He'd seen people starving. He'd seen people stabbed. He'd seen drugs. He'd tried those drugs, taking them under the fingernails, most of the times given to him by his own father in an attempt to make him disappear. What easier way to get your kid out of your way then to drug them up? Get them high?

Jason had heard noises he never wanted to hear again, and seen faces that he could swear see right through him. But, amidst it all, there was more. There was better. There was good.

Like the old woman who would give him food when he was hungry, and a place to stay when Jason's dad locked him out some nights. She had given him a hug when he'd cried after his mother died. She had told him he was brave, and special. Sometimes she said it so well he'd believed her. He believed her now.

Then there was Fat Homeless Jim, who could tell you the best jokes, and get you laughing no matter how sad you felt. He'd make you forget hunger. He'd been practicing that for years.

And there were all of Jason's friends, always so loyal. Two of them were dead now. The other three gone to who knew where. When you grow up in the Alley you grow up fast. No doubt they were in other cities, runaway in hopes to get out.

Jason had gotten out. He had gotten lucky.

"So, where you want to go, Jays?"

* * *

It was a dumb idea, and if Bruce knew … if _anyone _knew … well, Dick was pretty sure he would hear a lot of grief about it. "Ok, ok, can we hurry this up? How long does it take before you realize that she isn't going to be coming to answer the door? She's probably moved. If she had any sense."

Jason knocked again and shrugged. "She could be asleep."

"Oh good. We're nice people."

"She wouldn't mind."

"And what if it's not her in there? What if it's some crazy guy who you're waking up? What then?" Dick jumped a little at the group across the street. It was a huddle of some men and women, talking and laughing loudly. He was just thankful that they didn't seem to pay Jason and him any mind. At least not yet.

"Maybe we should ask if anybody knows what happened to her."

"Who are you going to ask? Jason!" Dick ran after his brother who was now attempting to cross the street and head to the group of people. "Jason! What are you doing? Let's just go home. Dad'll find out for you. He's got enough money to find out. Come on!"

Jason shook his head. "No. Don't worry, almost everyone knew Ms. Anderson. She was the only nice person for miles. If she's around, they'll know, and then the sooner we can go." He came to the group, all of which was now looking at him curiously. "Hey. Jason Todd. Just wondering if you guys knew a Ms. Anderson?"

Dick made a point not to make eye contact, much too nervous. There were five men and then just two women. It would have been, well, almost nicer if the guys were well built. But these people were so frail and thin, they all looked sickly, like they were dealing with a disease. Dick knew better. Drugs. Meth probably, by the way most of them looked.

"Ya' say Todd?" One man asked, slurred. "Whys that name sound familiar? Todd. Todd …"

"Yer thinking' Willy Todd. 'Member him? Ol' asshole." Everyone started laughing, and one man peered closely at Jason. "Yer Willis' boy?"

Dick froze, frightened. These people had been friends with Jason's father? Oh good. Oh great. Just what they needed. What had they been thinking, coming to Jason's old neighborhood? Of course people might know who he was.

"Willy still doing time?"

Jason slowly nodded. "Last I heard. We don't keep in touch."

"'Member that bitch he were always with? Katrina? She were a retard, that's for sure." One of the women said to her friend. "What was her name?"

"Catherine." Jason corrected.

"That was it."

"What's wrong wit' yer friend?"

Jason glanced over at Dick and smiled a little. "He's not from around here."

The five just laughed, like it was an old running joke. "Don't know 'bout the Anderson woman."

"She lived over there." Jason offered. "Usually stayed inside."

"Nobody there now. Nobody been there fer months, and nobody permanent fer years. Don't know anyone who lived there before."

"You livin' wit' yer mama?" A girl questioned, leaning forward. "How's she doin?"

"She died."

There was a collective silence, and then one of the guys cleared his throats. "Knew yer old man, he were a good guy. Worked lotta of jobs wit' him. Hit lotsa crystal with him too."

That got them laughing again.

"Tell 'em Hank says 'hi'. Tell him I'm sorry about …" He searched for the name. "Don't remember her name none. Shit. Well, tell him I'm sorry 'bout yer mama."

"Catherine." Jason repeated, annoyed that they were so stupid. Though, it wasn't their job to keep up with his family and his life. It wasn't like he'd invite them to his graduation and wedding. Friends of the family didn't mean anything here.

"Not Catherine!" He snapped angrily, as if he had a reason to be mad. "What was her name? Shit man, she was a looker. Yer daddy wouldn't have gotten her if he hadn't been lucky. She were educated, too smart for him."

"…I don't know who you're talking about."

"Her name was Shelia, Hank. Haywood."

The girl hit the male companion. "Course you'd remember some other girl's name!"

"Hey, she got around."

Everyone laughed. Dick backed away, hoping that Jason was ready to go.

Jason seemed interested though, more then before. "Shelia Haywood? I never knew about her."

They laughed like that was funny.

"…I don't get it."

"Poor bastard kid, don't know his parents. No shock, don't know most my kids either, kid – it's cool."

"Catherine Todd was my mom."

"…Ok."

"Alls I remember is Shelia getting pregnant, Shelia having the baby, and Todd being pissed when she up and left."

_Uh-oh_. Dick thought. This was bound to be trouble. There was no way Bruce didn't know about Jason's real mother – not with how paranoid he usually was. Dick looked at his brother and could see a whole array of mixed emotions. He didn't want to think of what Jason might be feeling. "Let's go, Jays."

"Tell Willis hi fer me. The ol' bastard."

* * *

Most of the car ride was in silence, Dick trying to get Jason talking, but he soon gave up. It was clear his brother was too deep in thought. He waited, planning to pull over soon if Jason didn't start talking. No way was he talking his brother home to confront Bruce without even talking things out rationally. "Jays." He said, yet again. "They're probably wrong. They didn't even know about your neighbor. What do they know about your mother?"

"They knew my dad. That one guy, Hank … he said he worked with him. Got drugged up with him. They had to know something." Jason said quietly. "And they knew about my mom, knew she was … slow."

"Jason, they were high. They were probably just being stupid, making you look stupid. Just forget it. You know? You would have known if Catherine wasn't your real mom. You know? And even if she wasn't, then … well, what's it matter? Apparently this Shelia person didn't want you. She left you. Ok? So, it's not worth it."

Jason turned to look at his older brother. "Don't be a bastard about this, Dick. You know it matters. You know that Dad probably knew about it too."

"…He would have told you."

"Would he?!" Jason demanded. "Or would he of just swept it under the rug, hoping I'd never find out. Why WOULD he do that?!"

"You don't know if he even did!" Dick pulled the car over, getting off at the exit, planning to find a nice place where they could talk this out. "Jays, what would you do if this woman was out there? Huh? You can't just go and find her. She left you. And she knew your dad too, and let's face it … your parents weren't the best of people. I doubt she's much better."

"My mom was nice." Jason snarled. "Don't talk about what you don't know."

"…Fine. But I know that you don't think things through all the time. Maybe you should take a step back and realize what kind of thing you'll be dealing with. You heard from strangers in the Alley that you have another mother."

"That IS what happened, dick-head."

Dick hated when Jason did that. "I'm sorry, Jason." He really was. "We shouldn't have even gone. It was a bad idea. A stupid, _stupid _idea."

Jason disagreed with that.

_To be continued …_


	17. Chapter 17

_**You Do Good, You Find Good**_

**By: **The BatThing (Cas)

**Chapter Seventeen:**

Jason didn't say anything when they got home. He went up to bed, refusing to acknowledge Dick in the least. And then, the next morning, when Dick came down for breakfast, he was informed that Jason was out running.

It was pouring rain outside.

Jason's run lasted almost two hours.

Dick kept quiet about the matter, deciding that if anyone was going to have to bring this thing up it would be Jason. As much as Dick wished he could fix it, he knew he couldn't. It was up to Jason to decide whether or not he wanted to go anywhere with what they had found, or just simply forget it happened. Dick sort of hopped his brother would just put it out of mind.

It was late in the afternoon, and Bruce was coming home now. His car was pulling down the drive, reflecting the sunlight rather diligently. It was blinding. Dick watched, bored out of his mind, sitting on the stairs, watching his guardian approaching him. It was too hot to say hello, so Dick just remained still.

"How was your day?"

A strange question. Dick just shrugged. "Yours?"

"I got things done. I've noticed you've seemed bored of late. Not a lot to do, is there?"

This was getting a little concerning. Dick slowly lifted his head to look at Bruce, quirking an eyebrow and shrugging yet again. "Its summer, the point is to be bored. If I wasn't bored more then half of the time then it wouldn't really be a vacation, would it?"

"I've been thinking about how pretty soon you'll be attending a University, and that maybe it's about time you started to get some experience under your belt." Bruce was sounded awkward, like he had planned this speech, and was determined to give it, no matter how dumb he looked or sounded (which was pretty dumb.)

Dick was a bit confused. "I'm sixteen."

"Not for too much longer."

"Well, I know, but I don't even know what I'll be doing when I graduate high school. What kind of experienced are you talking about? More classes? Tutors? I know I'm not doing amazing in school, but I'm not doing _that_ bad."

Bruce considered saying that a tutor and extra classes sounded like a good idea, but he held that bit back. "No, I was thinking of you starting a job at the office. You know, get your foot in the door. And of course you know what you'll be doing when you graduate. You'll be going to college."

There was a lot to be said there, but Dick was a bit too timid to say what he thought. He hadn't worked up the courage or argument yet, and to pick a fight with Bruce when you weren't prepared … that was a bad idea. He didn't want to work at Wayne Enterprises. He didn't want to follow Bruce around all day, in a stupid office, in uncomfortable clothes. "But, I don't know anything about what you do. I could always start with another job. You know? I could deliver pizzas." He smiled and snapped his fingers. "Wouldn't that be cool? AND experience."

"Don't make jokes."

"I'm not … not really." Dick said. "As much fun as it sounds working where you work, I just--." _Don't want to_. Dick didn't say that part. "Maybe I should get a real job before I poke around your office. You know?"

"You'll have a real job. And delivering pizzas, or working fast food, those aren't real jobs."

"That's not true."

"They aren't what you're meant to do."

Dick bristled at that comment. What did Bruce know about what Dick was meant to do? He got to his feet and shrugged, for the third time. "It's hot. I'm going inside."

"We aren't done talking yet. You can come in with me tomorrow morning. Get a start. I've talked with one of my associates, and they said they wouldn't mind showing you around."

"…" Dick opened his mouth to argue that point, maybe say that wasn't fair, but he didn't get much of anything in. Bruce was already moving to go into the house, which left the teenager to get worked up on his own. Dick ended up slamming the door when he came inside, stomping up the stairs (rather immaturely), and slamming the door to his bedroom. He didn't know what his problem was – Bruce hadn't really been mean about it. No, he was just pushy. And besides, Dick didn't really make any valid points as to why he shouldn't go.

What was the harm in trying it?

Dick flopped onto his bed, bitterly. He didn't know much, he just knew he was mad. Who wanted to spend their summer working for their dad? Not him! He'd rather work anywhere but where Bruce worked. How much was the rest of this summer going to suck?

A lot.

* * *

"Bruce!"

"Jack Napier." Bruce's words of greeting caught Dick in the middle of a daydream. They had arrived at the office building and already introductions were being made. Though this one sounded stiff on Bruce's part.

Dick looked up at the man and immediately felt himself grow a little more nervous. He stepped back, getting closer to his guardian, not offering a hello, but rather looked away.

Jack Napier was tall and thin. Pale skin, green eyes. His long piano player fingers outstretched towards Dick, the form of a handshake. "Mr. Grayson, I presume?"

Forcing himself to return the gesture, Dick shook his hand. All the while wondering what it was that was making him so nervous.

"I see the two of you share your dislike of conversation, eh, Bruce?"

Dick swallowed the lump in his throat, refusing to be blocked as unsocial. He liked people, almost always. And what was more, people liked him. "Just first day or something, you know? Worried I guess. I dunno." Dick answered. "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Napier."

"Don't be too worried, you're the boss' kid! And he's a billionaire!" He laughed at that comment. "What's the worse that could happen?!" Everything he said had a lot of expression to it, and it was annoying.

"Good point."

"Well, I was just packing up my things like I was told to do, Bruce. I won't be a bother anymore. Don't look so panicked either, I found a nice interview. So don't feel too bad about giving me the boot."

"I don't." Bruce stated.

"I thought about asking for a reference, but your secretary said that was a bad idea. Sarah, right? She's a pretty woman."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Napier, I couldn't give a very good reference. What you need is to get some help. Maybe then we could talk." Bruce put a pressured hand on Dick's shoulder and escorted him away from the strange looking man. Once out of earshot, Dick decided it was safe to start asking questions.

"Who was that?"

"A past employee who was fired last week. He doesn't seem to understand he's not welcome here and that we want him gone." Bruce replied, moving into the elevator. He pushed which floor and then waited till the doors closed to continue the conversation. "It's nothing you need to worry about."

"He's not mad you fired him?"

"…He's not well, Dick. He's probably very mad that the company fired him. He just deals with it in a different way. He knows how to push all the right buttons, that's why he keeps trying to act as if everything's just fine between us."

"When you say 'not well', you mean crazy, don't you?"

"When I say not well I mean not well. You don't need to worry about it."

"Yeah, you said that, but that doesn't make it less interesting. What'd he do to get fired?"

Bruce gave him a glare and Dick sighed, displeased that he wouldn't be hearing the story. The rest of the day was much like that conversation, _disappointing _and uneventful. Dick sat in on meetings, listening to words he didn't understand, saw people get angry (which was the only good thing) and read through a bunch of papers. He could only imagine what Jason would say if he saw Dick now. Probably laugh his ass off and call him a pansy for being here.

Lunch was awful. Dick lied and said he wasn't hungry. Apparently some representatives trying to sell some product had brought in food, catered from some expensive place. It looked good, but Dick didn't want to be forced to listen to any more _uninteresting_ conversation, or be asked any stupid questions.

He met the person he was supposed to shadow, Jules Anderson, and immediately liked the guy. He was funny, he put Bruce in his place, and he could talk about normal stuff.

"So Bruce, you force your kid to come here to what?" Jules had asked when they first saw him. He looked casual compared to all the other stiff collared people around. "I'll bet it didn't take any convincing to get you to come here, huh, kid? I bet you jumped at the opportunity to see what your old man does all day long."

Dick just smiled at that. "I like offices. Who doesn't."

"Richard, this is Mr. Anderson – you'll be following him around." Bruce gave Jules a careful look. "He's smarter then he looks, so don't worry."

"I don't look smart?"

Dick just smiled. Bruce deepened his glare.

"You can call me, Jules, kid. Unless we're around big wigs, then you'll probably be wise to call me Mr. Anderson. And fyi, your dad is a big wig. I technically am too, even if Bruce won't admit it. He and Luscious always try and keep me hidden, like I'm a secret. Which I am, a secret weapon that is. Isn't that right, Bruce?"

"You're looking to follow in Mr. Napier's footsteps, Jules."

"I get that a lot." The man admitted to Dick with a sad look. "Well, I better get going, but tomorrow you're all mine kid. I'll teach you everything I know. Raise you like a son, 'cause I only have a daughter, and she's only two – so you know." And with that he was gone.

Bruce seemed discouraged. "Maybe Jules isn't the right person for you to follow around. He's always been eccentric."

"I like him."

"He's very smart, and he's usually very good with people. You just have to put up with the rest of him."

Dick was very pleased. Jules was cool, a lot like Uncle Clark, but even _more_ cool. And he seemed like somebody who liked to talk, which was even better. Maybe Dick would be able to get out the story of why Mr. Napier was fired.

* * *

"Why is Jays always mad?" Tim sulkily asked Alfred. The nine-year-old had tried and tried to get his older brother to do something with him, but all Jason wanted to do was nothing. He had even yelled at Tim, called him a name, and slammed the door in his face. "He called me an annoying shit, just because I wanted to do something. He's so dumb. He's the annoying shit."

Alfred turned and gave Tim a look.

"Sorry."

"I'll speak with Master Jason about his attitude, but don't allow his behavior to govern your own."

Tim heaved a sigh and rolled his eyes. Alfred was such a peaceful person it was weird. "Do you think that maybe we could go somewhere, Alfred? It's really boring here."

"If you're bored, I can think of a long list of chores that might better occupy your time? Hmm?"

That made Tim hurry away to find something to do. Anything was better then chores from Alfred. Even if it meant being bored.

* * *

"A suggestion, Master Bruce?"

Dick was about ready to bolt upstairs when he heard Alfred's words, and they forced him to linger and hear what was going to be said. Suggestions from Alfred weren't rare, but Dick had a feeling. He stayed and listened.

Bruce was preoccupied with getting his jacket off; half mindedly muttered something sounding like an approval.

"Master Jason has been … a torrent, in polite terms. He is currently in his room, and has been told he will not come down for dinner." There was a pause. "He's done nothing but ignore instruction. Master Timothy came down earlier complaining of how Jason was acting, and so I went to go talk with the young master. I was told to mind my own business and then ignored, he refused to say a word to me. Then, later this afternoon, Master Timothy came downstairs saying Master Jason had hit him. He still had the imprint of a hand on his face from where he was hit."

"Jason hit Tim?"

Dick hurried upstairs, wanting to find out more then he had heard. If anyone could get the whole story here, it'd be him. And he didn't have long. He pushed open Jason's door and stuck his head in, finding his brother nowhere in sight. "Jason?" The window was open and Dick hurried over to it. "Jason!"

There was the sound of shingles twisting and grinding, then Jason appeared into view, tossing his cigarette down. "What are you doing in my room?" He climbed back in, pulling off his shirt and grabbing a towel. He headed right for his bathroom. "I thought you were at work still!"

"Dad said we could come home early. …You stink. Real bad." Dick covered his nose and then remembered why he'd even come up. "You know, Dad'll probably be up here any moment. He'll smell this."

Jason ignored that, switched on a fan, and went into the bathroom, starting the water to shower.

Heaving a sigh, Dick made his way to Tim's room. He slowly pushed open the door and found his youngest brother on the computer, playing some space game. "Hey. I heard Jason wasn't very nice today."

"That's an understatement!" Tim grumbled, and paused the game and looking at Dick. "He hit me."

"I heard. What for?"

"Bothering him, I guess. I just wanted to know why he was so grumpy, and he just hit me."

Somebody was coming upstairs now and Dick motioned for Tim to be quiet. He crept towards the door to listen what was going to happen to Jason. He could hear knocking, and then the door was opened. Bruce _had_ to hear the shower water.

And smell the smoke.

Dick slowly backed away from the door and turned to face Tim. "So what'd you do today?"

* * *

Jason knew Bruce was in his room, yet he acted like it was nothing. He furiously scrubbed at his skin, trying to get the smell away, trying to debate whether or not he cared what his guardian wanted. He was far too upset with the fact that Bruce knew about his mother and hadn't said anything.

Jason had family alive and Bruce hadn't said ANYTHING.

He was mad again, wiping the water away from his face. He reached for the shampoo when there was a knock on his bathroom door. "I'm showering!" He yelled, maybe a bit more on edge then he should have. Oh well. What the hell.

"Why do I smell cigarette smoke?" The question was formed calmly.

"I don't care."

"_Jason_." Bruce growled from outside the door. "Get out of the shower and come out here."

"I'm SHOWERING! I'm not just going to stop 'cause you feel like talking. Hold on. Wait like everybody else."

There was a pause. "Fine, I'll just search your room while I wait."

That got Jason out of the shower and dressed. He opened the door and let the steam roll into the bedroom. "What is so important?"

"I think you know."

Jason narrowed his eyes and shrugged. He didn't give a fuck right now. He was too mad, too confused. He had trusted Bruce, and look where that had gotten him. "What do you want?"

"You were smoking, weren't you?"

"Yeah. I was. So what?"

"So you said you stopped that habit! You know how dangerous smoking is for you? Do you know what it does? How dare you stand there, so nonchalantly, and tell me: so what? What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Well, it's sort of like Dick said – I just figured you knew about it and didn't do anything about it."

This caught the billionaire's attention and he seemed a bit winded. "Dick knew?"

"Yeah, Dick knew." Why was he doing this to Dick? Jason felt a twinge of guilt, but buried it. He thought of how he was lied to. How everyone he ever knew only lied to him, used him. He hated people so much. "What makes you think he tells you everything?"

"…You're in a lot of trouble right now. Alfred told me you hit Timothy."

"He asked for it."

Bruce was a bit startled. This wasn't safe. Jason wasn't acting sane right now. "What's the matter with you?" He honestly wanted to know. "Are you ok?"

"Why not ask _Dick_?!" Jason snapped. "Why don't you think about that one yourself. I just want to be left alone! That's ALL I want! To be LEFT ALONE! But nobody seems to realize that, do they? You all keep coming in here, asking what's wrong, and not taking a moment to realize that YOU GUYS ARE WHAT'S FUCKING WRONG! Leave me ALONE!"

"Fine. Fine. You want to be alone? Stay in your room until I tell you otherwise." Bruce turned to leave, and heard Jason laugh. He turned around, an even glare. "Don't." That shut Jason up and he left the room, slamming the door behind him. He was going to figure out what was wrong, and Jason had told him enough.

Dick knew.

"_Richard_!" He waited and watched as Tim's bedroom door slowly opened and Dick's head poked out. "We need to talk. Come with me."

"Why?"

"Just do it." Bruce snapped. If Jason wouldn't let him order him around then he might as well overdo it with Dick. "Now." They walked downstairs and into Bruce's office where he shut the door and told the teenager to take a seat. "Jason told me you knew he smoked."

"…" _Shit_. Dick swallowed, wondering why Jason was such an ass. Why did he have to tell on him? After all, Dick had covered for Jason, he hadn't been a rat. "He said that?"

"Yes. He said that. He said you keep a lot of things from me. He said that you'd know why he's acting the way he is as well."

Dick slunk down. _Double shit_. He might be mad at Jason, but he knew loyalty. He knew it better then anyone in this family, probably. And he knew that no matter what Jason had done, it wasn't Dick's business to go and tell Bruce about Jason's mother. That was for Jason to do. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you." He admitted. "I … I didn't want him to get in trouble I guess."

"Right. That's smart. So in order to keep me from yelling at him you let him slowly kill himself." Bruce nodded, sarcastic with every word. There was no mistaking his anger. "Good choice. Smart choice."

"I said I was sorry."

"You do realize what smoking does to the body? That it causes cancer, that it kills!"

"I know."

"Then why the hell didn't you do anything about it? You're just as much to blame as he is for whatever illnesses he may get later on. You knew and stayed silent." The disappointment hurt. "You let him lie to me. To Alfred."

Dick couldn't look Bruce in the eyes. He swallowed, wanting so badly to be angry, but knowing he didn't have that right. He _should_ have told somebody. He always knew that. He was always just so much of a coward. Besides, he didn't want Jason to hate him. He was selfish.

"Richard."

He forced himself to look up.

"What else don't I know?"

"…" The sixteen-year-old felt his mouth go dry, and he wondered how he was going to pull this off and come out alive. There was no way Bruce would understand, especially not after he had just found out about Jason smoking and Dick keeping it a secret. Trying to speak was hard, his voice was so light. "I can't." He managed.

"You can't what?"

"Tell you."

"…"

"It's not my place." Dick continued, his voice growing a little strength. "That's Jason's business, and I can't just-."

Bruce stepped forward and put his hands on the arms of the chair, looking Dick in the face. He was between mad and furious now. "Jason's a minor, Richard. You _both_ are minors. Your business isn't your business. It's _my_ business as well. **Especially** if it's harmful to others. We _do not_ keep secrets."

Dick had his head pulled back as far as it would go and just shook his head. It was all he could do.

"Then you're just as much to blame for what happened today as he is. Go to your room."

"That's not FAIR! I didn't do ANYTHING wrong!"

"You refuse to tell me what is wrong with Jason."

"Jason should tell you – _not_ me!"

"Jason isn't in the talking mood." Bruce growled. They both knew what that meant.

"…I'm not Jason's babysitter."

"No, but it is your responsibility to take action if something is wrong. So, Richard, let me restate the question: What is wrong with Jason?"

'_That not restating anything,'_ Dick thought. He grinded his teeth together and shook his head yet again. "Ask Jason."

"Go to your room. You're grounded."

Bristling, Dick got to his feet. "Yeah. _That's_ fair. Blame _me_ for not being able to take care of Jason."

For that little comment Dick was escorted all the way to his room. Or rather, dragged.

* * *

"I don't believe the pair of them. Jason is acting like he's from another world and Dick is no better. He _refuses_ to say anything. I don't know what to do, Alfred. Something is clearly the matter and they won't even tell me what it is." Bruce paced around the kitchen, a bit out of sorts, stressed. He almost always found solace here, because Alfred gave it. "I can't force it out of them."

"Give it time."

"I just can't believe that Richard is keeping important things like this a secret! He's always been honest with me!" Bruce continued. "I don't understand."

Alfred had things to say about that. He turned the heat on the oven top down so the liquid in the pan wouldn't boil too quickly. "Master Bruce, with all due respect, these past few years you haven't exactly been … available. True, you have done better these past few months, but for a stretch of time it was clear you didn't want to be here. And while Master Jason and Master Tim seemed to accept that, Master Richard did not."

"I'm always available. And what do you mean I didn't want to be here? This is my house!"

Alfred just gave him a look. Judging. Alfred was allowed to judge.

"Dick never said anything to me."

"It's not that he said anything. It's that he clearly grew in distance. There was a time when the two of you were close. I know that. But now things are different, he feels a strong loyalty to Master Jason, and maybe you should start wondering why that is."

"They're brothers."

"They're best friends. There was a time when you were that for him, but not now."

But Dick had told Bruce otherwise in Kansas on Christmas Eve. He had said that Bruce was his best friend. The billionaire realized how stupid that seemed now. He wasn't here to be Dick's best friend. "So this is my fault?"

"…I was simply explaining why Master Richard isn't as honest with you as he once was. As for whose fault it is for Master Jason's attitude, well, that is _his_ fault. Nobody else's. Not yours and not Master Richard's."

"But Dick knows. You can't say that it's right for him to keep secrets."

"All I am saying is that you cannot blame him for the way Master Jason has been acting."

"You think I was wrong to ground him?"

Alfred thought about that. "I believe it would be wise to talk with Master Richard again, once you have calmed down. If you reason things out with him, he might be more inclined to see your side. And the same goes for Master Jason."

Bruce was about to agree with talking with Jason again when the door opened and Tim appeared. "Hello, Tim."

"Hi."

"I haven't seen you yet today." Bruce said, realizing it. He gave a smile as the nine-year-old came his way, happy for the child. "I heard Jays gave you a hard time."

"…Yeah. He hit me. Hey, Dad?"

"What?"

"I've been bored all day 'cause Jason ignored me." He paused. "And now Dickie says he's grounded. Can he be … ungrounded? Just for tonight?"

Bruce smirked. "Just so he can entertain you? Why don't you try calling one of your school friends?"

Silence. They all knew Tim didn't have friends outside of this household. Well, besides Clark and maybe Roy … oh, and Lois. But they didn't really count, now did they?

* * *

"Hey, Jules, can I ask you a question?" Dick was sorting through papers, trying his best to not be bored, but that was getting hard. They had been working for hours now, going to meetings, listening to people talk, doing paperwork, and it was getting close to time to go home. And home meant back to his bedroom. Being grounded sucked. Especially when you worked all day long. "When I came in yesterday, my dad talked to this guy Mr. Napier."

Jules Anderson nodded his head, pausing in his work to look at Dick. The two had bonded rather effortlessly. He acknowledged Dick as a good worker, maybe not as smart as Bruce, but the kid tried hard. He was a hard worker. And what was more, he was friendly. "Yeah."

"Well, dad was saying that he was fired and needed help. I was just wondering what happened. Why was he fired?"

Leaning back in his chair Jules smiled. "It's not a very fun story. Mr. Napier didn't work here till just a short while ago. He was actually this comedian, believe it or not. Didn't do so well, from what I hear, but he tried. Bless him. He had a wife, a kid on the way – you know, I guess he was happy enough."

Dick listened, eager. This was the most interesting conversation he'd had all day, and he wasn't even talking.

"Anyhow, turns out his wife dies. I don't know how. So Napier, as if it's not enough, is caught in some bad deal that we don't know about. He comes here looking for a job, and your dad felt sorry for him. So, even though this guy has no experience really, he's hired. The whole time nobody really likes him, but we all feel bad 'cause he lost his family. Who wouldn't? And it's not bad at first, Jack just acts a bit off. But slowly he gets worse. And he starts getting annoying, and laughing out of nowhere. So, Bruce tells him to go see a doctor, says that he'll even pay for it. Jack goes, seems to do fine, but then the next thing we know he's been arrested with trying to steal information from us and sell it to LexCorp. Mr. Luthor is good enough to turn him in, and so Bruce fires Jack. You know? He didn't press any charges or anything."

"I thought he seemed crazy when we talked to him."

"_Very _crazy. The guy's not stable, and if you ask me, he's dangerous too. You could catch him talking to himself all the time. What he needs is help, and a lot of it."

Dick could agree with that.

_To be continued…_


	18. Chapter 18

"Lit a light on my gloom and now there's only a half moon. I need to find a way home, back on the moon to be alone. Dreaming in Ether, leave atmosphere, breathing in Neptune's chandelier. Lift away and float it on into space. Into the sublime celestial brine. I am sailing, sailing through the light and the gloom of the Sun and the Moon. Hey, hey moon, I think I figure it out. I think I'm coming about. My whole world is in tune and much clearer now."

**Carbon Leaf**

_**You Do Good, You Find Good**_

**By: **The BatThing (Cas)

**Chapter Eighteen:**

Things weren't good. That's saying it as simply as possible. Things, at Wayne Manor, were very far from being _good_. They were mucky, unclear, utter confusion and at times even chaos. And when Bruce tried to blame somebody he only found himself wondering if he was right in pointing the finger.

Jason was impossible at first, but now he was just withdrawn. He refused to talk, to Bruce especially. He'd avoid being around people, keeping to his room, or sneaking outdoors. And if you did come across his path, you'd probably pay the price for his poor company. So Bruce would blame Jason at times.

But then Dick knew what all the trouble was about and he kept a tight mouth. No amount of prodding or encouraging would change that. So, there were days when Bruce found Richard to be the one at fault.

But then there were days when the billionaire couldn't help but wonder if Jason and Dick weren't to blame at all. Maybe _he_ was the problem here, and he just didn't know it. But then he'd go to one of the two boys and beg for them to tell him if he was to blame and they'd just ignore him, and he'd get mad at them all over again.

Things seemed to drag, everything staying the same, never getting better. But, at least they weren't getting worse. It wasn't until two weeks later that things went out of hand.

Things went from confusing to just … well, to utter loss.

Dick had been sitting with Jules, the two eating their lunch and talking about how they were thankful that football would be starting up in a few months time. It was then that Bruce interrupted, barging into the room and telling Dick that they were going home.

"Why?" Dick was already scrambling to do as he was told, eager to go home, slightly worried and slightly thankful. It was a beautiful day outside, and being inside this office wasn't ever that amazing. Though, going home wasn't much better. He tossed away his lunch and looked over to see why Bruce wasn't answering his question. "Dad?"

Jules was on his feet now, concerned. "Is everything ok, Bruce?"

"…Hopefully. We just need to get going, Richard. Come on. Let's go."

"But what's wrong?" Dick waved to Jules and followed Bruce down the hall to the elevator. He smiled at Mrs. Patty, who was always so thoughtful. She'd bring in brownies and cookies for people on her floor, and Dick often enough shared in those little gifts.

"Jason and Tim are missing."

"…" For a moment, a very brief moment, Dick's heart faltered. He didn't know what to make of that statement. Jason and Tim were missing? How was that possible? "Maybe they're just in the back woods or something. Did Alfred even check?"

Bruce stepped into the elevator and pressed the first floor, watching the doors close slowly. He wished they'd hurry. Go fast. "They weren't at home. Alfred said that Jason wanted to go out, and so they agreed to take go downtown." A pause. "They were down there one moment, and he said they just disappeared. That was two hours ago."

"So maybe they got lost?"

Bruce kept silent. He wished that was it. "I hope so."

"I mean, who would kidnap two kids in broad daylight? And with Jason? He'd probably throw a big enough scene to get people to notice. There's no way that-."

"Jason hasn't been himself as of late."

Dick looked at Bruce, studying the expression on his guardian's face. He didn't like that statement. He didn't like the assumption that was left unsaid. He knew what was being thought. "Jason wouldn't runaway, Dad. And even if he did, he wouldn't take Tim along for the ride."

Bruce kept silent all the way to the car, what he was thinking about went unsaid. And Dick wished badly to be given some sort of comfort. He'd try to say how improbable it was that anything bad had happened, but there was no reinforcement. It was just him saying these things, and Bruce's silence.

It made him uneasy. He didn't like that, so he'd talk all the more. He had been talking, probably ten minutes straight, when finally Bruce spoke.

"Dick. What is wrong with Jason? I need you to tell me."

"…" The sixteen-year-old fumbled his hands, moving them up and down the seatbelt strap. He was worried enough at this point that telling Bruce what was wrong seemed like a good idea. But … what would Jason do? How could Dick betray Jason like this? "I don't want to hurt Jason's feelings."

"I realize that, but this isn't just about Jason anymore. This is about us all. His behavior has dragged everyone down with him, and we've tolerated it. But now he and Timothy are missing, and if it could possibly have anything to do with what you both aren't telling me, then you need to start talking." Bruce was staring at the road, his hands tight on the wheel. When he spoke again, his tone was pleading. "Please, Dick, you can make things better."

At first there was nothing, but slowly the story spilled out. "Remember that night, Tim's birthday? You said we could go out and stuff?"

"Yes."

"Well, at first it was nothing, but Jason … he talked me into going into the Alley, just to see an old friend of his. I was bored, I guess. I didn't want to at first." Dick gave his head a shake. "We couldn't find his friend, but there were these people that knew his dad and his mom. And well, they started talking, and they said that Jason's real mother wasn't Catherine Todd. They said it was some women named Shelia Haywood."

Bruce was dead silent.

"I didn't know if they were just lying, but they knew a lot about Jason. They knew a lot about his dad and stuff. Jason was mad, he said that you kept it a secret from him, but when we got home he just stopped talking about it. And ever since then he's been … mad." Dick felt so wrong for telling that, but at the same time he was relieved. Maybe this would make things right, things would be like they had before now.

"You shouldn't have gone to the Alley."

"Is it true?"

"…Shelia Haywood is his mother. Yes."

"Why didn't you tell him?"

Bruce almost snapped at Dick, wanting to tell him not to take that tone with him. But that seemed unfair. And it was. Bruce had gotten himself in this position, hadn't he? It was fair if he was judged. "I was wrong maybe. I contacted her, but she wanted nothing to do with Jason. Adamantly. Not a picture, not an update, she told me she didn't care if he were dead or alive, he wasn't her concern."

_Oh_.

"Catherine Todd was a better mother then Shelia was, and she deserved to have the title of his mother. She took better care of Jason then his real mother or father ever did. It was her secret, and I kept it for her." Bruce cleared his throat, uneasy. They were getting closer to where Alfred had asked them to come. "I didn't do it to hurt anyone."

Dick felt the gloom. What a sad life people could have with such little effort it seemed. He wondered why it was that so many bad things seemed to happen to Jason, and why his little brother was incapable of escaping them. Bruce had made an attempt to make things a little brighter, but in the end, it didn't do any good. "I would have done that too." Dick whispered, offering Bruce a little smile. Offering Bruce a little support.

The billionaire felt his heart crush all the more. "It's just … Jason went through enough. He didn't need to know he wasn't wanted. When we first took him in it were as if that's all that ever happened. I just kept trying to find a different home for him. I didn't want him either."

"You don't mean that."

"Dick. Yes I do. I didn't want him. But, after he was forced upon us, then that changed. I felt so guilty. Especially when I thought it all through. His father didn't want him. His mother didn't want him. And Catherine may have loved him, but she struggled to show it." Bruce forced himself to calm down. "And he was hurt, day in and day out, in a lot of ways we'll never know. Mental, physical, emotional … the list goes on and on, and it shows. I didn't lie to hurt him again."

"…I'm sure he knows that."

"I don't think he does. And that's the trouble."

* * *

"I told you to go back to Alfred, Tim!" Jason dragged his brother by the hand, as so they wouldn't be separated. The last thing he needed with Tim getting lost. He'd just have to somehow bring him back to Alfred after this was all done and over. He could drop him back off at home. "You should have listened."

"We both need to go back to Alfred! He's probably worried." Tim struggled to keep up with the pace. He didn't like the faces that peered down at him, the strangers that they passed. Wherever they were going, it didn't seem very safe. "Where are we going, Jays?"

"…To see a friend of mine."

Tim pulled back on Jason's hand, making his brother stop. "But what about Alfred?"

"What about him? He'll be fine."

"Won't he be mad we left him?"

"Tim, why the hell don't you ever listen to people when they tell you what to do." Jason really wished he could somehow get rid of the kid. If he didn't care, he'd just drop Tim off with some stranger – but he couldn't do that. This was his baby brother. The one person in the world who would look up to him, see past all the silly flaws, think he was cool even though he wasn't. "Come on, we're going to miss the bus."

They came to the station and waited a few minutes before the GITS transportation bus rolled into view. A bunch of people got off, and Jason waited before dragging Tim onto the vehicle. He paid their two dollars, and then took a seat. It was clear the nine-year-old was worried though.

"Ok, listen Tim; we're just going to go visit this woman. Alright? After that we'll go back home, kind of like an adventure. Don't worry, ok?"

Tim didn't like the way the seats were so hard, or how close everyone was around him. He looked onto Jason and shook his head. "Why can't we just go home?"

"Because it's too late now. You had your chance when I told you to go back to Alfred, and you didn't."

"But I don't like this place! Who is this woman anyways?"

"She's just somebody, that's all."

"She's more then somebody if we're going all this way just to see her." Tim grumbled, folding his arms and lurching around with the bus' movements. "This is why you wanted to get out of the house, isn't it? You wanted to runaway to see her, so you lied."

Jason shrugged. "You weren't supposed to come with me."

"Well, you'll be in trouble when we get home. That's for sure!"

"And that's something new?"

"This bus smells."

* * *

Dick and Bruce found Alfred with ease. The butler was a phone call away. He had been searching, but when they called to say they had arrived, he came back to greet them. They were on Warrant Street, between the bustling part of town and nothing. It was a quiet little place, and yet nobody seemed to know anything about Jason or Tim. Too many people came day to day, too many to remember two strange faces.

The three poked around, asked around, and finally Bruce said they should just call the police. Even though it hadn't been long enough, it didn't matter. He had the money. He could get them looking. So he did.

Dick was eager to keep searching, but Bruce made a point not to let the teenager out of his sight. The last thing he needed was Dick gone missing as well.

Damn. Why had things gone so askew? This was all so stupid.

Kids were supposed to be safe.

But this was Gotham.

"Buy a kitten, little boy?"

Bruce jerked around at the question, finding Dick standing before the same old women they had seen just a few weeks prior. It was the same woman who had tried to sell Tim a cat. He marched right over, grabbing Dick by the shoulder and forcing him back. "Do you remember me?" He demanded to the woman. "Do you remember me and my boys?"

She looked at him and then down at her kittens. "Ten dollars a kitten, sir."

"I don't want a cat."

"Then I don't remember anything."

"I want to know if you've seen those two boys at all today – or ever."

She picked up a black cat and held it towards him. "Just ten dollars."

"I'll give you ten dollars to answer the question." Bruce pulled out his wallet. "Please. Tell me."

She gave her head a firm shake, clearly disagreeing with that suggestion. "You have to take a cat as well, else I don't know anything."

"Then you're withholding information. This is important. What's the difference? Just take the money!"

"Kitten, or no deal. I need to see 'em in good homes, you knows. Can't sleep well till they be in good places."

Bruce grabbed the cat from her hands and shoved it to Dick. He paid the money and the waited, glaring. "We bought your cat, now answer the question."

"I sawr 'em. They were with some old guy. The little boy recognized me again. Said a hello."

"With that man over there?" Bruce pointed to where Alfred was, talking with some stranger. The woman nodded. "You didn't see them at any other time?"

She just shook her head. "Sorry, mister, I didn't see 'em after that. Now, take good care of Mittens." She picked up her basket and started walking away quickly, happy with herself.

"Get rid of the cat, we're going to go to the police." Bruce walked towards Alfred, but paused when Dick didn't follow. "Come on."

"What do you mean, get rid of the cat?"

"I mean drop it." Bruce went to take the kitten, but Dick pulled it away. "Richard, this isn't the time for this. We're not taking a cat home."

"We're not leaving it to die either. The least we can do is bring it to the shelter. I'm not just letting it wander around, half starved."

Bruce didn't have time for this. He just let Dick keep the cat; there were bigger things to worry about then finding kittens decent homes. Bigger worries by far. Reaching back he grabbed a hold of the teenager's shoulder, making a point not to lose him.

* * *

"Just stay right here, ok?" Jason told Tim. "I'll be right back out for you, I swear." They had come all this way, and for what? The house looked abandoned, which was rare. A whole house, just left alone? Who had the money to have their own house on decent building ground? An apartment was more practical, but Jason didn't think on it. He pulled his hand away from Tim's and nodded. "Promise to stay right here, out of sight, ok? Don't talk to strangers or anything. I'll be right back. And if you need me I'm right inside."

Tim was nervous, but he nodded, doing as he was told. "Hurry, Jays. I want to go home."

Jason didn't respond, he just hushed Tim and then walked to the front door. His mother, his honest to god mother, was waiting inside for him. She had answered the letter he had sent two weeks ago. After all that searching through Bruce's things, searching in phone books, on the internet, talking to people, even trying to talk to Willis. Jason had been able to get Shelia's address, and he wrote to her.

And she had told him to come and talk with her today. He was a bit late, but that was ok. It was to be expected. He was lucky he had gotten away at all. Lucky that Alfred had agreed to take him and Tim downtown. Jason Todd knocked on the door and waited.

He didn't think things through. He didn't wonder why Shelia had been so eager to see him after all this time. He didn't wonder why she hadn't let him call her. He didn't wonder why she hadn't tried to explain herself. To Jason, it just wasn't important. He watched the door open and was slightly confused to see a tall, pale, thin man. "I'm here for Shelia Haywood." Jason said confidently.

"Oh yes, come on inside, she's waiting for you."

There was a pause.

"I'm Jack Napier, an old friend of Shelia's. She wanted me to be here for her today, but I'll stay out of your guys way while you catch up."

Jason didn't give it a second thought. He went on inside, unaware that Shelia Haywood never got his letters. Unaware that Jack Napier had been the one writing back. Unaware of how. Unaware of why. Just totally unaware.

But not for long.

And it wouldn't even matter.

The door shut behind him and he didn't think things through.

_To be continued …_


	19. Chapter 19

"And it feels right this time

**Authors Note: **Thank goodness for me throwing a fit. My computer has been broke for a few weeks now. It went down the day before I was planning on posting this chapter, so that is why there has been a wait. My power supply went out, so I have a temporary one in now before my new one comes. So, there might be another time lapse in the future, fyi. Sorry for the wait!

"And it feels right this time. On this crash course, we're in the big time. Pay no mind to the distant thunder as beauty fills his head with wonder. Says: '_it feels right this time_.' Turn around, found new high lights. '_Good day to be alive, sir._ _Good day to be alive,'_ he said. Then it comes to be that the soothing light at the end of your tunnel is just a freight train coming your way. Don't it feel right like this? All the pieces fall to his wish. '_Suck up for that quick reward, boy. Suck up for that quick reward,_' they say."

**Metallica**

_**You Do Good, You Find Good**_

**By: **The BatThing (Cas)

**Chapter Nineteen:**

Shelia Haywood wasn't a bad person. In fact, she tried hard to do what she could to make things better. She helped those who needed her help. Helping was her life. She had made so many trips to Ethiopia, lending her skills as a doctor. She loved the country, loved the people, loved seeing their graciousness when they had so little. They had what anyone would want, and being there made Shelia feel like she had it too.

So, yes, she had made her fair amount of mistakes. And yes, she considered Willis Todd on the top of that list. Whatever she had been thinking back then, she didn't know now. The man had been attractive, he had talked the talk, but she always knew he was a fake. But, she had been young, and wasn't that enough of an excuse? And she had been scared when she discovered she was pregnant. So she had the baby and gave it right back to the father.

And she left him.

And he had been mad. The things he had said to her, the threats he had made.

There had never been the thought of contacting her son. Maybe if the situation had been different, maybe if she knew it would be safe. But Willis was a dangerous person, and going anywhere near him was trouble. That was a fear. A selfish fear.

And then there was the fear of guilt. She had left that baby with a man who could hardly take care of himself. She had left that innocent baby with a man who was known for cruelty. But what else was she supposed to do?

When Bruce Wayne's lawyers had contacted her all those years later, telling her they had her son. Asking if she wanted him, she had gotten fearful all over again. _No_. And then they when they started to explain the situation of Jason, she had hung up. They had called again, and she expressed her feelings. _She didn't care._

And maybe that was it. Or maybe it was that she cared too much about herself. Or maybe it was that she cared for Jason Todd a little, and she cared to discover how much he'd blame her for all the torture he had endured.

Shelia Haywood wasn't a bad person, but Jack Napier was.

He had come to her home, come wearing sheep clothing. He had come seeking help – he'd lost his family. He'd lost his job. He didn't know what to do. He had heard she was a doctor, he wanted her to help. And his story broke her heart.

Loosing his wife and unborn child?

"_I'm not that kind of doctor, Mr. Napier." _She had explained sadly, but the eagerly said she knew of people who would be of great help to him. _"Good friends of mine. Old friends."_

"_They can't help me." _He had answered. "_I want you to help me. Only you can help me_."

She began to reiterate why she couldn't offer assistance when the truth came out, assisted with a gun and a smile. She had been frightened, and she had listened to exactly how she would be of help.

"_You see, dearest, my old boss told me I needed help. So, I've decided to take him up on that offer. If he thinks I need help, then that's what I'll get. But you see, I've tried talking things out, but that never seems to do any good. And after all, I don't really even remember what happened very clearly. So what's the point in trying to bring up nasty old memories? Let's have some fun, dearest. Shall we have some fun?"_

She wanted nothing to do with him, and fought for the right things to say. _"Mr. Napier, there are many different types of doctors, it's just a matter of finding the right one for you. Now, I know of --." _She had been slapped across the face.

"_Slip of the hand! Are you alright?"_

She just avoided looking at him.

"_If you aren't alright then I'll have to operate!"_

"_I'm alright." _

"_Then get __**up**__."_

She rose to her feet, shaking a little, but forcing herself to be brave.

"_You see, apparently my boss has a little family. And I figure, what better way to help myself then to have him realize exactly what I'm going through. Crazy idea, that one. But you see, if he understands, then in return I'm getting help by his standards. Does that make sense?"_

No.

"_Of course it makes sense."_

"_What do you want with me?" _She whispered.

"_Well, he has a case of the teenagers, one in particular that caught my interest. I got lucky, you see. One of those boys is going through, well a crisis. I've been going through their mail, you see – a good way to find things out I've discovered. Well, you have to weed through all the boring things to get the good stuff."_

"_I don't understand."_

"_That's because I'm not done explaining things. So shut up." _He had made a motion to hit her and laughed when she jumped back. _"You're funny. Now, like I was saying, midlife crisis at an early age. He wants to meet his real mother, and apparently that mother is you. So you're going to help me_."

"…_Jason?" _She quivered. _"I don't even know him. You're mistaken. I haven't seen him since … he was born."_

"_Well, I've already written him back saying that he should come and talk things out with you. I think a little intervention on my part will do wonders for the two of you. But mostly, I'm in it for me. And well, for me, yes. That's about it. I can be in it for you as well, if you'd appreciate me more." _

"_I don't know him at all!"_

He had looked at her, confused almost. _"You gave birth to him, didn't you? Carried him in your body for a few months. Tell me that counts for something. I've only sent him two letters and I already feel like I know him _very _well."_

She couldn't be a part of this. She just couldn't … but, what else was she going to do? This person was insane. He was going to kill Jason, and if she didn't do as he said he'd probably kill her too. She'd never get out of Gotham and go back to the country she loved so much, with the people who needed her – who made her feel important. _"What do you need me for?"_

"_Just a little part. You see, you'll be sitting in this chair here!" _He motioned to her couch and smiled. _"I'll answer the door, of course, let him in, bring him over to see his long lost mommy. But don't worry; you have the easiest part of everyone. All you have to do is be here. You don't even have to be alive."_

And so he had killed her, the gun forgotten. He had other methods.

Jack Napier had then set everything up. He put Shelia on the couch, tried to make her look happy, but failed miserably. Which was concerning for him. He only had a few hours, and things had to be perfect! What good was it coming to see your mother when she wasn't even smiling for you? _"Miss Haywood, you're looking a bit too dead._"

Naturally, she didn't say anything.

So he found her lipstick and painted on a smile, which was better then nothing, he decided. Then he had waited. He made dinner, ate it, slept (rather poorly, he never slept well in new places), and then awoken and waited for his special visitor.

When he heard the knock on the door he was more then eager to answer it. After all, a dead person was never much for company.

Swinging the door open he found a confused teenager, looking a bit surprised. "_I'm here for Shelia Haywood."_ He had said.

"_Oh yes, come inside, she's waiting for you."_

Jason looked uneasy.

"_I'm Jack Napier, and old friend of Shelia's. She wanted me to be here today, but I'll stay out of your guy's way while you catch up." _And that was really all it took to get Jason Todd inside.

* * *

Not a word for so long. Bruce had always seen the Amber Alerts, he had seen the Missing Posters, and he now wondered how those parents of those missing children would go on for so long. Jason and Tim hadn't been missing more then ten hours now, but it was torture.

As if looking wasn't hard enough, now he had to wait. At least there was some comfort in knowing that there were people, well paid people, out there looking. "That's every fucking thing I know. I'm sick of these-."

"Mr. Wayne, we're just trying to see if we missed anything. Technically we aren't even supposed to be making any efforts for the search."

"Well, that's what money's for isn't it? Influence?" Bruce knew he was being a bastard. After all, Commissioner Gordon was a friend of sorts. He had a daughter; he knew what it was like to be a parent. "I'm sorry." He managed, shaking his head and pulling a hand over his eyes. Why was waiting so hard? "I don't know what to do, and this is my fault."

Gordon kept catching himself wanting to say that it hadn't even been ten hours, and that the boys could just be lost – but that wouldn't make things any easier. This was Gotham City. Lost kids were never something to be calm about. No matter whom you were. If you cared or if you didn't, you're kids could be in danger.

"Can we just get back out there and look?"

Gordon glanced over the record of places Bruce had listed off where the boys could possibly be, and each one had been scratched off. The kids weren't anywhere anybody knew about. "We'll-." He was interrupted by a phone call and cleared his throat. "Just a moment." He picked it up and listened to what was being said.

Timothy Drake had been found.

* * *

"He was just walking down Signore Street, like he was lost. Didn't realize who it was till I made the call and reported him. Nobody told me we were searching for the kid, after all." The cop's name was Ted Manning, and he had been lucky enough to come across Tim.

Or rather, Tim had been fortunate enough to have Ted Manning coming to his rescue.

They were trying to get Tim to talk, trying to get him to tell them where Jason was – but Tim wasn't saying much of anything. At first he had been silent, and when Ted Manning called in and found out who he was, he had asked the nine-year-old where his brother was.

Then Tim started crying, and wouldn't say anything. Gordon, Bruce, and a dozen other cops came to the location, but Tim wasn't saying much of anything. He didn't even acknowledge his guardian, as if he were too scared.

"Timothy – where is JASON!" Bruce repeated, for what seemed the billionth time. He needed to know. He HAD to know. "Where is HE!" He shook the child a bit, but then realized what he was doing and backed away. "Timothy." He repeated.

Tim just shook his head, and started to cry all over again.

Dick had arrived by then, leaving Alfred at the house, waiting for a call, waiting for Jason. The sixteen-year-old had speed most of the way, and now was wondering if that was a good or bad thing. He saw Tim crying, and he didn't want to know why. "Timmy?"

Tim ignored him as well. Cops were searching the area, asking questions.

Bruce shook his head at Dick. "He's not saying anything. He won't say a fucking thing." There was concern, so much concern it was deafening.

"Tim?" Dick crouched down before his brother who sat with the blanket draped over his shoulders. For a summer night, it seemed so cold. The streets were filled with lights, flashing red and blue, but it was still so dark out. "Tim, where's Jays?"

Nothing.

"Tim, look at me. Ok?" Dick took his baby brother's hand and gave it a squeeze, trying to work something out. To get past Tim's momentary state of insanity. Something bad had happened to make Tim like this. "Where's Jason?" He repeated.

Once again, nothing but tears.

Fine, try another approach. Dick didn't want to ask the question, but he swallowed and forced the words to form a sentence. Each one seemed to burn his throat and tear at his stomach. Butterflies erupted, and he worried that he might throw up. He was crying too, just thinking it was possible. "Is Jason dead?"

"…I dunno!" Tim shrieked all the sudden. "Dickie, he told me to wait! But then there were noises and I didn'tknowwhattodo. _He was crying, Dickie_! He was being** HURT**! He told me to wait, but there were noises!"

Bruce was there now, beside Dick, wanting to know. "Where, Tim? Do you remember where you were?"

Tim sobbed. "He told me we'd go back home!"

"We'll go get him, Timmy. Tell us where he is so we can all go home."

Tim shook his head.

"TIM!" Bruce bellowed.

"He'll hurt you too." Tim whispered. "Isabadhouse."

"There are cops who'll keep us safe." Dick was frantic. "Tell us, Timmy. Jason's probably scared. He needs us, Timmy."

"I don'wanna go backthere."

"You have to."

"Where is it, Tim?"

"…" Tim sniffled and got up, ready to show them the way.

* * *

When they saw the house, they surrounded it. Cops were yelling, talking through loudspeakers, telling the people inside to come on out. But it didn't seem to do anything. So, finally somebody tried to go inside.

They were shot. The sound loud, followed by an answer – somebody was inside. And Bruce knew he'd kill whoever it was if they didn't give him Jason back.He was being held back, not allowed anywhere near. Sitting safe inside the cop car. Dick and Tim had been taken away, back to the station – they weren't going to be anywhere by this. Only Bruce.

And then Jack Napier had walked out of the house. He was saying something, but Bruce didn't know what. He demanded to be let out of the car, screaming at the cop in the driver's seat. But he was silently ignored. Not allowed out until people went inside of the house and Jack Napier was secure. "LET ME OUT!"

"Mr. Wayne, they have to secure the area. They have to make sure that Jason's safe before you can just go inside."

"LET ME TALK TO GORDON!"

"Gordon's orders, sir."

They wouldn't let him out. He had to wait, the only information was from walkie talkie, a call made saying that they didn't find Jason inside. There was just a woman, quickly identified as Shelia Haywood. She was dead.

"Where's Jason?" Bruce demanded. "Why didn't they find him? What did they he with him?!"

* * *

Jack Napier said he killed Jason Todd and got rid of the body. As to where the body was, he wasn't saying anything. Though, his testimony spoke in volumes. Bruce refused to believe it, saying he was a liar, pleading to talk with the mad man, to have him tell him where his son was.

"He is talking, Mr. Wayne. You've heard what he's said." Gordon took off his glasses and ran a hand across his eyes. "I know this is hard to hear, but there's blood all over that house, and we're pretty certain most of it isn't from Ms. Haywood. She was killed by a blow across the head. There was no major bleeding. I'm so sorry, Bruce. We're doing everything we can to make this right. If Jason's alive, we'll do anything to find him."

"Then let me talk to him. Let me talk to Napier!"

He got his chance to talk with the man, and it only made things so much worse. He fled the room, throwing up once he got to the bathroom, holding back the sobs, fighting himself to be strong. Jason had to be alive. Why would Napier hide the body? What was the point?

"Bruce?" Gordon pushed the door opened and was quiet for a moment. "We're talking with the neighbors, seeing if they know anything. I have men all over the area, searching. We'll find him."

"Don't make promises you can't keep." Bruce sputtered. "I need to go out and search for him. I need to -."

"You can't do that. You know we can't allow you there. Let us do our job; you just worry about Richard and Tim. They probably need you bad right now." He paused. "We talked with Tim. Or we tried to – he isn't really talking right now. He shook his head when we asked if he saw anyone come out of the house. Seems he ran as soon as he realized what was happening."

"It doesn't make sense." Bruce was having trouble speaking. "Why would he hide him? It just doesn't make sense."

"…He wanted revenge, Bruce. He's insane. It doesn't have to make sense. He's insane."

"Why won't he just tell me?"

Gordon knew the answer to that, but didn't say anything. Bruce knew too, it just helped to pretend that there was still some hope that Napier would give answers.

"He's only fifteen years old, Jim. He's hardly a teenager – just a kid. Why would he do this? If he was so mad why couldn't he have just killed _me_?" Bruce slunk to the floor, feeling the ceramic on his palms and shutting his eyes, squeezing them shut. He wanted to be alone, but he wanted people near. He couldn't bear to be alone. "Much -- rather had it been -- me."

Jim stood, offering his support with his presence alone.

* * *

Tim was given a sedative that night, back at the Manor. And then put to bed by Alfred, who held the boy close, even though Tim didn't seem to care either way. The nine-year-old seemed so lifeless, unable to express anything vocally, and now was having trouble doing much of anything.

Dick wouldn't stop crying, and when Alfred had offered the sedative he had been fought away. "I DON'T WANT IT!"

"It will help you."

"I need to be out there helping them find Jason! I don't need to sleep! I need to help!"

The two were downstairs, in the Sitting Room. Dick had claimed the couch at first, but when Alfred came in with the shot he had scrambled away. Unlike Tim, he was having no trouble displaying what he felt. He couldn't keep anything down, so sick with worry, so sick with hurt. And he couldn't stop crying, so much so that he couldn't cry – he'd just make these horrible noises. "I don'wanna make it go away, Alfred." He pleaded. "I can't just make it better with a shot. That's not fair." He was crying again, sinking to the floor, his hands batting at the air. His whole body shook. "Jays is hurting, Alfred. I know he's hurting and he's scared. And I can't just go to sleep!"

"What good is worrying yourself into a state where you won't be of any use to anyone? You're going to have to go to the hospital if you cannot calm down. And that wouldn't help _anything_. We'd be forced to turn attention to you instead of the search for Master Jason."

Dick was gagging.

"Master Richard, _please_."

He clawed at his head, dragging his nails through his hair, making scratch marks on his face even. He began to shake his head, not stopping the motion. "I killed him. I killed Jays. I killed him."

"That's inane."

"NO! IT'S NOT! Dad asked me to tell him what was bothering Jays! Jason told Dad to ASK ME to tell him! I didn't say anything!" Dick backed up against the wall, still shaking his head. "This is all my fault."

"Stop it, Richard." Bruce came into the room, forcing himself to make this better before he went off to suffer alone. Dick was being a danger to himself like this. He strode right over to the teenager and pulled him up, dragging him over to Alfred and then nodding to the butler. "Give him the shot."

Dick began to fight then. "THAT'S NOT RIGHT! I CAN'T IGNORE IT!"

Bruce held him tight, forcing the boy to be steady enough for the needle to go in. Once it was done he released the teenager, only to find a fist coming at him. He caught Dick's hand and forced it down. "You're making things worse, Dick."

Dick's chin was trembling, and for a moment he looked like he was considering taking another swing, but then he threw his arms around Bruce, just crying all over again, pleading for his guardian to forgive him. Pleading for Jason to forgive him for what he did. Saying how sorry he was, that this was his fault. That he wanted to be dead, because it would be better. He wanted Alfred to forgive him. And Tim to forgive him.

Bruce let him ramble for a little while, but then started to hush him, saying it wasn't his fault – trying to reassure. His words didn't do much good, but they were true. "Come on, Dick – let's get you to bed."

The shot was taking its toll, and Dick was having enough trouble making sense of things. He stumbled as they went up the stairs and when they came to his room refused to go in there. "No!" He shrieked, clinging to Bruce again. "Don't make me be alone."

It was hard enough to take care of Dick; Bruce was struggling not to cry himself. He had to keep reminding himself of what Gordon said, otherwise he'd be tearing up Gotham, making things worse in an attempt to make himself feel better. "Dick – you need to go to bed. You're tired now. It's ok to sleep. It's ok."

"Don't leave me. I don't wanna' be alone."

"I'll be with you then. Come on. I'll stay until you sleep."

"You can't leave me." Dick stumbled a bit, and was lead into the room. He was quickly given his pajama pants and went to the bathroom to change. He fell down a few times in the process, but managed to succeed. Alfred was talking with Bruce when Dick came back, looked at the two and then started gagging again.

"A shot would help you as well, Master Bruce." Alfred said as he watched the billionaire go to help Dick.

"No. What if they find something?" Bruce helped Dick to the bed and pulled back the covers, watching Dick climb in. "I need to be awake and ready."

Alfred gave a little incline of the head. "I'll check to make sure Master Timothy is still asleep. I've put the old monitor in his room." He looked at Dick and there was a bit of a falter in the butler's form. He looked as if he too were ready to just give up. He forced himself to walk over to Dick and give the child a kiss on the forehead. "Sleep well, Master Dick."

Dick watched him go, dizzy. "I'm not sleeping." He said with a bit of a slur.

"Yes you are." Bruce said. He walked over to turn off the lights, which got a protest from Dick. "I'm just turning off the lights. I'll stay." He shut them off and came back, pulling Dick's computer chair over to the bed.

"What are you doing?"

"Staying with you."

"Aren't you going to sleep?"

"I'm going to stay up and wait, so I can wake you up if we find anything out." A good enough excuse, and Dick was drugged enough to fall for it. The teenager was crying all over again now, though he wasn't sure why he was crying anymore. He'd remember every other moment, but in-between those he'd forget. And the forgetting was getting stronger. He was tired.

The sheets felt good on his legs, especially the way they'd move with him, almost like a caress. And they were cool too, the perfect temperature, starting to warm up with his body heat, but not quite there yet. And there was the scent of outdoors in his room. Dick turned his head weakly to see if his window was open or not.

"What are you looking at?" Bruce questioned, looking up through his eyelashes. He was hunched over, slouched with poor posture that just didn't matter. Jason was lost. What was the point of anything else mattering? Well, besides what he had left. Dick, Alfred, and Tim – they still matter. And now Bruce was starting to wonder if the sedative would ever work. Why couldn't Dick just sleep? Sleep and forget what was happening temporarily. _Yeah right._ "Dick?" He turned to look in the direction the teen was staring towards and saw the window wide open. "Are you cold?"

"No."

"Lay down, Dick. Rest."

"But I'm … scared." There was hesitation at first, and then Dick struggled to breath, wondering if maybe he was having trouble just now or maybe he'd never known how to breath. "Jason's out there and he needs me."

"We're doing everything we can. You know that. We'll find him." What a stupid thing to say. Each word was a fucking lie, and Bruce hated saying it – even if it was an attempt to make Dick feel better. They weren't doing everything they could. If they had been, all of Gotham would be looking – the whole world would be searching. And Dick knew that as well. And as for the last bit, the 'we'll find him' part … Oh god, Bruce didn't want that to be a lie. "We'll find him." He repeated, sitting up straight and nodding. "Commissioner Gordon said that they're doing everything."

What a pack of rotten lies. In the end, he didn't know if they would be worth telling, but he told them nevertheless. And it seemed to work. Dick had one more panic attack before drifting off into a disturbed sleep. Bruce watched for a time, pulling the cover back over the teenager when they were kicked off, and hushing when Dick seemed most upset. But helping Dick didn't keep away Bruce's pain. The more time he spent in the dark room, watching Dick struggle to stay asleep, the more he began to panic himself. _What was he doing sitting here?_

A tight pain inside his chest, and he clawed at it. Maybe his heart was dying inside of him. Maybe this would all just end tonight with him passing off to whatever was next. Maybe he could talk to God, or make a deal with the Devil – anything to save Jason. Anything to bring that kid back safe.

And how did this happen?

Bruce crumpled forward as he began to cry, but in an instant he forced himself to stop, sitting right back up. But it kept happening. He'd go between control and totally defeat, where he'd just start to cry. Biting his hand helped to stop the tears for a little while, but even that wasn't enough.

What was happening to Jason? Where was his Jason? That stupid, _stupid_ kid. What had he been thinking runaway like that? Why hadn't he just told Bruce – they could have handled this, they could have made it so Jack Napier never touched any of them.

_No_. Jack would have found a way.

If not Jason then maybe Tim or Dick.

But where was Jason? "Where's Jason?" He whispered, and that seemed to set him off more then anything else all night. The verbal admittance that he was helpless. He hid his face away and fought so hard not to cry that it hurt, and in the end proved worthless. He cried anyhow. And while he cried he struggled to make coherent thoughts, trying to connect somehow to his dead parents, talk them into helping him somehow.

"Bruce?"

The billionaire jerked his head towards Dick's figure and wondered what was going on? Dick had called him by his name, which was … so rare it never happened. Maybe the child was just talking in his sleep. Sniffling, trying to hide the fact he had been crying while trying to stop at the same time, Bruce wiped at his eyes. He gave no answer, because if he did it would betray him.

"Bruce?" Dick was awake, shifting and looking at his guardian. His voice was weak itself, and he had a long gap of silence, and the next noise that came from him was a small sob. "You're sc-uh-scaring me!"

Swallowing, as if that would somehow make his voice come out fine, he tried to speak, but it was a stupid thing to do. "What?" He was a bit worried now, wondering what was wrong with the teenager. He stood up and sat on the edge of the bed, looking closely at Dick, glad for the dark to hide his face. "What's the matter?" His voice shook with emotion.

"Stop crying!"

_Oh_. "I'm not crying, Dick."

Dick only struggled under the blankets, wrenching this way and that. He couldn't speak he was so upset.

"Richard. I'm not crying. Calm down or we'll have to give you another shot. Ok?" He sniffed again, running a hand across his face to take away the wet still there. "I know it's hard, but you can calm down."

"But it hurts so bad!"

"I know." He honestly could understand that statement, and there was sympathy in his voice. If he could, he'd make things easier for Dick. Maybe another sedative wouldn't be such a bad idea. He knew the pain Dick was talking about. "I know it hurts."

"Make it better, Dad," was the plea. "Make it go _away_!"

"We're trying, chum. You know that."

"May-make him come back home. _I want him back_!"

Bruce was silent, listening to Dick beg and plead, like that was all it would take to convince Bruce to somehow bring Jason back. They both knew better, everyone knew better. The only one who could do anything was Jack Napier, and he was currently being questioned by the meanest detectives Gordon could get. Bruce hoped they used cruel and unusual punishment. Fuck a lawyer. Whoever Napier tried to get Bruce would just pay. He didn't care how screwed up or how bent that seemed, he'd do it.

Dick was still in the process of entreating, and now had managed to cling to his guardian, his face hidden in Bruce's shoulder. The billionaire's shirt was getting wet slowly, but he made no motion to do anything about it. Dick had been momentarily forgotten, because he knew that the teenager would be just fine. Crying was just crying, after all.

He felt his arm being forced to move, and noticed how Dick shrank under it, forcing an unwilling Bruce to comfort him. The poor sixteen-year-old just clung, half clawed, holding onto his sanity in whatever way he could. His words were drowned out by tears and his tears were dried up soon enough with a bad headache.

Alfred had come in the room and administered another shot to Dick, saying kind things to the boy. "There, there lad. This will help." He had then returned to Tim's room, stupid enough to trust that Bruce could handle Dick. Or maybe just not wanting to have to deal with Dick himself.

But the medications helped, and Dick faded back into a fitful sleep. Slouched on his guardian while Bruce was utterly lost in his thoughts. He mindlessly stroked his hand on the child's slumbering head as he imagined all the ways he could end Napier.

If Jason was dead, then somebody was going to pay, including Bruce.

_To be continued …_


	20. Chapter 20

"I've made a name everybody writes off: 'an open road heart case' a 'honky-tonk lost cause'

"I've made a name everybody writes off: 'an open road heart case' a 'honky-tonk lost cause'. The fate I'm looking at, there ain't no way out. A long and lonely path I'm destined to go down. Yeah, there ain't much of nothing in me left to be saved, but baby I bet if you could love somebody like me there might be hope for me yet. Always living fast, only thinking short term, I never could get past a bridge I didn't burn. You just might be that outside chance for me. Yeah, you're the one good shot at redemption that I got. Yeah, there ain't much of nothing in me left to be saved, but baby I bet if you could love somebody like me there might be hope for me yet."

Dierks Bentley _Hope for Me Yet_

_**You Do Good, You Find Good**_

**By: **The BatThing

**Chapter Twenty**

_Two Days Later:_

It was three in the morning when Dick was convinced that he could find some sort of clue that would lead him to his brother. He hurried to Jason's room, ignoring the painfully tight feeling on his lungs, and breathed despite it. He dug through things, under the mattress, in the closet, behind the chests of drawers and in the nocks and crannies. He was shuffling through Jason's drawers when he came across an unexpected jolt.

"_JASON?! JASON DID YOU TAKE MY JEANS?!" _The memory was a flash. Dick had been yelling at his brother about such stupid things.

A pair of his jeans, the ones that had been missing for months now, lay amongst Jason's. The same pair that Dick had accused Jason of taking, the ones that Jason swore up and down he didn't have.

"_Jason, where are my jeans?!"_

What had Jason said in reply to the question? Dick struggled to remember the exact words, but knew it was pointless to try so hard. He wouldn't remember. He could see his brother's face, but he couldn't hear anything.

What Dick wouldn't give to fight about such a stupid thing?

Putting the jeans back in Jason's drawer, tucked between the others, Dick shut them back up. He didn't want them anyhow.

_Four Days Later: _

"Tim?" Dick took a seat beside his little brother on the front entrance steps. The view was worth noticing, but neither of them seemed to care about it in the least. There were more pressing things. Jason was gone, presumed dead, but nobody knew and Jack Napier wasn't saying anything. It had been four days now, and the pain was as real as ever, and the fear only mounted with time. Sometimes Dick couldn't breathe from the panic, and he couldn't sleep because of his thoughts. "Tim?" He repeated, trying to be selfless and finding it as easy as ever. He was concerned.

Timothy Drake gave no acknowledgement of being spoken to. He just stared out into the setting sun, acting like he was watching it, but seeing none of the colors or glow. He couldn't feel the stone that he sat on, how it was fading in degrees as the sun peeked away. He didn't notice that his hands were tired from supporting him, and his head ached from stress. Nowadays he didn't feel much of anything.

"Tim?" Dick pressed, finally reaching over to his little brother and touching him gently on the arm. "You ok, Timmy?"

"Yeah."

"…You don't look alright." Dick slowly admitted. He spoke the truth. Tim hadn't eaten in days, but that wasn't the main concern. He hadn't slept without assistance from medications, but that wasn't as bothersome either. The real problem was that Tim Drake seemed to still be in shock. Alfred noticed, and Bruce was trying to take time to notice, but there were so many other imperative matters. So Dick had finally forced himself away from the worry for Jason to take a time out for Tim. "We'll find him, Tim."

At this the child turned his head and squinted, scrutinizing his older brother, as if seeing him for the first time. "Don't say that."

"…Why not?"

"Because it's not true."

Dick bristled at that comment, pulling back a bit, arching away. He felt scared all over again, in a different way, in a worse way. "You don't know that. Don't say that. We're gonna' find him!"

"Ok." Tim turned back, once again looking towards the sun.

"We are!"

"I said 'ok'."

"…Why don't you think we'll find him?" Dick demanded, he pleaded, he wanted to know what Tim was thinking. After all, it had been Tim to see Jason last. It had been Tim who had seen most of the crime. Maybe there was something the nine-year-old wasn't telling them. He saw he was being ignored. "Tim!"

"Nothing." Tim sighed as he stood up, shaking his head, not bothering to give a passing glance as he walked back indoors. He went straight for his room, planning on locking the door and keeping Dick away. He didn't want anyone to bother him like that, because he knew Jason wasn't coming back, and he couldn't bear to keep hearing people say that they'd find him.

Tim had heard the sounds, and he had heard what Bruce said Napier said. That Jason was dead. And Tim believed it, even if he was the only one. The others were going to try and carry on the search, assuming he was alive. But Tim knew better, and he blamed himself so greatly for what happened. If only he could fully understand, but he couldn't. He wished he were smarter, or stronger, or just … better in general. Not the stupid kid who had run away, leaving Jason to die. Not the baby brother who everyone had to rescue and make feel better.

The idea that Jason Todd was alive was just … metaphysical.

_Four Weeks Later:_

"Ask me if I give a fuck, Clark! I don't care if it's been four fuckin' years!" Bruce was angry, and as time progressed, that anger only grew. Tim had been observing it for some time now. He saw how Bruce would become infuriated at the simplest of things, mostly concerning the scarcity of new concerning Jason. That was the trouble right now; yesterday a detective working the case had hinted that they consider a funeral for Jason. And Bruce had gotten mad, so now Clark Kent was trying to calm him down.

Clark had come all the way, and he'd been at the Manor for two weeks now, doing whatever he could to help around. But as much as he might try to calm Bruce Wayne down, it wouldn't happen, because he didn't have that … aptitude. There were only three people who could calm Bruce down, and only one of those three could always do it, no matter the circumstances.

That person was Dick Grayson. But Dick was with Alfred taking a walk, doing his own share of calming down. He'd wasn't able to sleep at all last night from the nightmares. Tim had heard. It took a sedative to get Dick calmed down, and even that only did so much. Everyone was slowly realized that Jason wasn't coming back.

"I'm paying them to search! And they don't have the right to fucking tell me when to stop!"

"They didn't tell you anything, Bruce. They only suggested."

"HE'S NOT DEAD! IF HE WERE DEAD WE'D HAVE A BODY!"

Tim flinched at the severity of the voice. He didn't like it when Bruce got mad, not like this. It seemed the whole house suffered. He counted the moments till Dick would come back and do something. All it would take was a look from him and Bruce would stop.

Just a look.

If Tim tried to do anything, well, Bruce would just tell him to go to his room. If Tim pursued enough, then maybe his guardian would stop, but it was uncertain. Maybe it was because Tim didn't have what Dick had, at least not anymore.

"Bruce, please." Clark pleaded.

* * *

_Eight Months Later:_

Tim hated the psychologist, and that was a fact. Fortunately today he had been exempt from going; it was Dick's birthday, though there wasn't any celebrating being done. A worse birthday Tim had never seen, and he was positive of that. Dick was upstairs in his room, door locked and refusing to talk to anyone.

Perhaps it was the realization that time was passing, and they were still alive that made Bruce start to sway. The billionaire had come downstairs that morning with purpose it seemed, and he looked angry.

"You're seventeen years old." He stated, almost as if he wanted to make sure Dick hadn't forgotten. There was a short pause as Dick lifted his head from his bowl of oatmeal took look up at Bruce. "I think it's time to consider going back to school. There's no reason to have Alfred tutor you here at home when you could do just as well there."

There was a hush that had already been there, but now it increased. Tim was curious because Bruce had been so understanding when Dick had said that he didn't want to go back to the public school that year. Tim made no complaint when the same accommodations were offered to him, and the two had lessons under the butler.

Why the sudden change of mind?

"I don't want to go there." Dick muttered, instantly returning his attention to his food. He lifted the spoon and started to eat again, like the conversation was over, like he called the shots. And well, in a lot of ways he did.

"It's not up for debate. You've been hiding away from people, both of you have." Bruce glanced at Tim, and like he usually did, looked away as soon at they made eye contact. "And it's time we all faced the facts. It's been more then eight months now and there isn't anything new. Nothing. The best things any of us can do is start to act like normal."

Dick's chin was trembling, and Tim watched. His big brother was weaker then ever, any hint of somebody giving up hope made him so upset. And now, Bruce, who had been Dick's rock through all of this, was saying such things. It wouldn't end up well.

"You're seventeen years old now." Bruce repeated. "Whether we like it or not, life is going right on without us. Alfred and I both agree that we stop wasting time and start doing things right."

"JASON'S ALIVE!"

Tim watched the bowl fall off the table and noticed how the oatmeal hardly made a mess when it clattered to the ground. The shine of the spoon flickered slightly as Dick stood up, and Tim followed him with his eyes.

"I never said he wasn't. I just said that it's time you started going to school, being around your friends again."

"You think he's dead! I know you think he's dead!" Dick was facing Bruce now, so small compared to the man, but unafraid. "You're just like HIM!" An accusatory finger in Tim's direction defined 'him'. "I don't want my friends, I want Jason! I don't care if I'm seventeen or seventy! He'll come back!"

"He can't come back."

Dick hit Bruce in the chest; hit him as hard as he could muster. And there was pain in the teenager's face at the impact. "I'd know if he were dead!" A literal shriek. "I'd feel it! You want him to be dead!"

"Richard!"

"All of you want him to be dead!"

Bruce was angry again. Dick's statement went too far. Much too far. They were cruel words, and there wasn't any taking them back. "That's uncalled for."

Tears. Dick was crying now, again, just like he always would. He had his hands rubbing at his eyes, trying to make them hidden, but just making things all the more obvious. "How -- can you -- say (gasp) -- (gasp) that he's -- not coming back?!"

"Because he's already gone. It's done, Dick. There's no proof, but it's done. Jason died, just like Napier said. He hasn't been suffering all this time; he's been resting in peace."

Tim listened to the statement and slowly turned it over in his mind. Bruce's words. It seemed to the nine-year-old that his guardian had hit a point where he realized that the hope of Jason's being alive was no hope at all. If Jason were still alive then that meant things were much worse. That Jason would be suffering. That he was being forced away. And the idea of his dying all those months ago would be a much better closure.

Dick had run off then, flashing up the stairs and slamming his door. Bruce slowly looked at Tim and the child looked right back, staring, observing.

"Are you ok, Tim?"

"Yeah. Are you?"

Bruce offered up a sad smile and nodded. "I think 'ok' means something else."

"I think you're right … about Jason not coming back. I want him to come back too, but … he won't."

The billionaire looked like he wanted to say something then, but he just shrugged and turned to follow Dick, to make things better in whatever way he could. He didn't like to see Dick Grayson unhappy. It hurt too much.

* * *

_One Year Later:_

Dick sat, uncomfortable in his black suit. He could hear people calling for him, but he refused to come. Uncle Clark had already searched Jason's room ten minutes ago, and before that Bruce had looked – they were right to check there. They just didn't know the exact place to look. And that was the point. Dick didn't want to be found. He wasn't going. They couldn't make him go.

Because if he went then that would be like giving up, and he wasn't giving up like everyone else had.

Sitting outside of Jason's room, up on the roof where his brother had gone to smoke so many times, Dick surveyed nothing.

Had it really been a year?

So much was … different, changed in a single night. Tim was so quiet, so serious now. Bruce was distant, overprotective and overcautious, careful in all he did and said, and angrier as well. And Alfred … Alfred was so sad. It was hard to get Alfred to smile. Dick sometimes wondered if he'd ever been able to do it before Jason disappeared.

It was warm outdoors, summer now, and it was hot in the black suit, with the sun beating down from above. Weren't funerals supposed to be dark and rainy? Dick took it as an obvious sign that Jason wasn't dead.

"RICHARD!"

Something glittered in the corner of Dick's eye and he looked down at the gutters, seeing what had caught his attention. There, between grime, dead bugs, and old leaves was a small box.

Sliding down the roof, feeling the sand from the shingles rub uncomfortably against his hands, Dick reached out and captured the object, surprised to have found it, recognizing it as soon as he touched it. It was Jason's box of things, the one that Tim had tried to take all those years ago.

"Jays." Dick whispered, hugging it close as he heard Jason's bedroom door open for the third time that day. His name was called, apparently Bruce was double checking.

"Richard. Come out this instant. What you're doing is being a coward, and it's not right. I know it's hard, but you'll regret missing this for the rest of your life." Bruce was saying, his voice raised. "It's not right."

Dick frowned and held tighter to the box. Stupid Bruce. He hated it.

The window was shoved open and the teenager jumped in surprise. He looked down at his guardian and gave no inclination of fear or repentance. He just shook his head, saying what he had been saying all over again with the motion.

"Come on, Dick."

"M'not going."

"You have to go. Please. Don't make this harder then it already is."

"He's not dead." There weren't any tears left. Honestly. Dick could say this all day long. He'd been repeating that line all year, and for most of that year nobody believed him. "I'm not going."

"I'm not giving you a choice. You're making this very hard for all of us." Bruce whispered, meaning it. He didn't have the temperament to deal with a tantrum. It was bad enough he'd be burying an empty coffin in place of his son. "Come down now."

Dick did as he was told, carrying along with him the box. He'd go, not because he wanted to, or agreed with it, but because he cared too much about Bruce to make the man sad.

* * *

_Two Years Later:_

"So, Jason – what do you think?" Dick Grayson asked the question absentmindedly, because that's what it took to talk to his brother some days. Jason had become the eighteen-year-old's shoulder angel. Whenever a problem would occur, Dick would seek advice, but he never got an answer there. But rather then be upset with that, he just took it as he always did. Jason was far too busy up there in heaven, hanging out with God and stuff. Dick couldn't honestly blame him. Yet, he still would talk things through, just on the off chance Jason got bored.

"What did you say, Dick?" Bruce Wayne opened the bedroom door and surveyed the room. He and Dick had come to look at the apartment that Dick was considering leasing. Nobody thought the dorms were a good idea, and the trouble was that usually freshman were forced to live there, but when your guardian was Bruce Wayne, well, things could be changed. So Dick had found a kid from high school who had graduated last year and was looking for a roommate. Everyone seemed unsure about it at first, but then Alfred seemed to suddenly take a liking to the idea.

Turning around a few times, looking at the white walls, trying to imagine living here, Dick just sighed. It seemed like fun, sure – but at the same time … he didn't feel comfortable leaving home. And he knew Bruce wasn't very easygoing with that thought either. "I was just thinking aloud … I'm thinking I like it." That was the truth. The longer he was here the more he seemed at ease. He was eighteen, and he'd be in college now. What kind of fun could he have staying home all the time? He knew he'd miss a lot. And besides, with his own apartment … well, he'd have a lot more freedom. "I'm starting to think this is a good idea."

Bruce wasn't near as convinced. "Michael's twenty-one now, isn't he?"

"Yeah, and don't give me that look, just 'cause he's a little older doesn't make this a bad idea. If anything, it makes it better – he's older so he won't want to hang out with a little kid, right?" _Wrong_. Dick liked Michael a lot, they were good friends in high school and they still got along just fine. Bruce was stupid if he thought that Dick was so innocent that he'd never drank before in his life. _Seriously_. "You said you were fine with it last night, Bruce."

"Well, Sandra Cullens called last night – remember her?" Bruce opened the closet door and took a look inside, finding it a decent size, compared to the room. "Her son, Samuel?"

"Yeah. I remember Sam. What about him?"

"Well, he's looking for a roommate, and he's a freshman this year. He managed to let the college look the other way so he could live on his own. It would be a nice match."

Dick tried to hold in his sigh. Sam Cullens was … well, he was a mean kid. Not in the bully type of way either. In the 'I'm better then you' type of way. Dick and him had gotten along for a little while when they were young, but then Jason came along and Sam decided he didn't like the other boy. So, well, seeing as Dick and Jason were brothers, that 'friendship' ended, if you could even call it that. Sam had always thought Jason too stupid, too ignorant. Dick knew it was just that Jason wasn't afraid to stand up for himself, and speak his mind. Sam was rich, his parents were rich, and maybe that had just gotten to his head a bit too much. "He's really smart."

"All the more reason for you to agree. That way you'll be sure to work on school stuff rather then be forced to hang out with your bored roommate. Sam's always made the honor roll; he was valedictorian at his private school. So if you have any trouble you could ask him for help. It would be like a live in tutor."

"I can't live with Sam, Dad."

"And why not?"

Dick heaved a sigh this time, unable to hold it in. He walked over to the window and took a look at what he'd be seeing everyday if he lived here. The view was depressing suddenly. Nothing but buildings. "Because Sam didn't like Jays, and I can't live with him."

There was no arguing that. "Well, how about Henry Smaren? He's a senior this year, you know. His father mentioned he was looking for a roommate as well."

"Maybe you should have suggested Sam."

"Why wouldn't you live with him?"

"Because he's no fun, and you know it. He has so many morals that they all run into each other and make him a hypocrite. I mean, I agree with a lot of what he thinks and all, but you know how he is with it – if you don't agree with him, my god, you're going to Hell and he'll tell everyone about it to save you the trouble." Dick left the bedroom, entering the rest of the apartment. The kitchen and living room were in the same space, and then there was another door that led to Michael's bedroom. It was a newer building, so things looked extra nice. Dick wondered how long that would last. The walls felt hallow, and the doors felt plastic. Bruce could afford better, but Dick didn't want that. He wanted to room with Michael, and Michael couldn't pay half of better. So Dick was fine with this. Gotham living wasn't exactly cheap. "You don't want me to get the apartment, so you're suggesting all these people you know I hate."

"We both know that your grades have been lacking these past few years, and I wonder if living on your own would help them at all, especially if you live with one of your friends. And this friend is 21, Dick – he's on a different level then you."

"You hardly know Michael. Bruce, you said I could do this! And I can, you're just assuming I'm going to fail, and what kind of start is that?" Dick smiled a little, trying to lighten the mood. "I'll do good."

Failing was a big part of the worry, but it wasn't the biggest. Bruce just didn't like Dick leaving home. Not with Jason's death only two years behind him. Wait. Not behind him, it was never behind him. And ever since that night, that _horrible_ night, Dick and he, well, they'd grown closer. It was more then just parent and kid relationship, it was a friendship. Bruce would never admit it to anyone, but Dick Grayson was honestly the closest person in the world to him. Now, he loved Tim just as much, no doubt about that. But Dick knew Bruce, he struggled to know Bruce. And if there were times Bruce would make a point to keep Dick away, well, Dick would fight to get closer. That's just the way things were now.

Dick was opening the cabinets, looking inside, checking out the appliances, confused by some of them, but figuring Michael would be able to help him out. And if not, well, then he could just call Barbara for help. Noticing that Bruce wasn't really there, Dick stood up and smiled at his guardian, rolling his eyes. "Bruce, stop being lame and check the place out. You don't want to miss any flaws; after all, this is where I'll be living for the next few months."

"If you can keep your grades up."

Oh yeah, Dick knew _all_ about that. How many lectures did it take to get that through his head? Oh yeah, only one, but Bruce gave him, like, twenty. If Dick went below a B average he had to go back and live at home. And if he got caught drinking, smoking, doing drugs – anything illegal, then he'd have to go home. And if anyone called and complained about him, teachers, neighbors, well, then he'd have to go home. And if he went home then the car would be gone, Bruce had reiterated that point. Dick didn't like that point. If he had to go home, well, he'd manage – but take away his car? Hell no. "Tim and Kon are probably waiting for us."

Bruce nodded and the two headed left the building, going down the stairs and to the car. As they drove towards the mall, Dick chattered about different things. Sports, weather, Bruce's work, things at home, Michael, Barbara, the apartment, little things - the way he always would. They had the windows up, finding it too hot to have them down. Gotham was sticky in the summer, and it heat made it smell in the city.

They got to the mall and Dick called up Tim on the cell phone, telling his little brother that they were outside waiting. It only took five minutes for the two twelve year olds to show up and clamber into the back of the car. Kon, or rather Conner, was a talker, sometimes so much that it annoyed Bruce. The kid wasn't like Clark or his parents, yet that's where he came from. It was a long story that nobody much liked to talk about.

Clark had found the kid, tried to help him out and ended up just sending him to Kansas to live with his parents. As far as anyone knew Kon came from nowhere. He didn't even know his name. As far as anyone knew, he didn't even have an identity. At first people were confused, but then suddenly, oddly, things were just let go. Martha and Jonathan Kent were given the chance to adopt the boy, so they did. And things went well there. But there was curiosity, so Bruce and Clark decided to investigate. Bruce had the money, Clark had the want. And what they found was a bit of a surprise.

Lex Luthor had apparently paid off all the right people to make the adoption go so smoothly. Bruce suggested that maybe the man was the boy's father, but Clark said he didn't care to know anymore. Nobody was a fan of Lex, Clark most of all. So he let sleeping dogs lie. That had been last year.

Conner had been so friendly right off the bat, and managed to make a lot of friends in his rural new hometown. He had come with Clark once to Gotham, and met the Wayne Household, and things didn't go well at first. Tim and Kon had clashed, both finding the other annoying.

Tim liked his solitude, he liked his space, and he liked logic. A lot had changed since Jason's disappearance, but none as shocking as Tim's whole personality. At first it had been frightening, the way he stopped talking so much. They sent him to doctors, but nothing really helped. He just became another version of himself, one that was able to take care of things. He excelled in school, and even managed to make a few friends. But when he met Kon he decided the other boy was too much of a showboat, and far too full of himself. It took awhile before the two managed to see the good qualities.

Like how Kon was fiercely loyal, willing to stand up for a friend, even if that friend was the one wrong. How, when he trusted you, he'd willingly listen and give advice, and tell you what was bothering him as well, expecting the same in return.

And Kon realized that Tim was more then just an antisocial nerd who was so smart that he was stupid. Clark had told him stories of how Tim use to be so different, and that was intriguing, and it led to a discovery that Tim still had parts of his old self, if you gave it time and trust. Like how he let his older brother hang all over him. Hug him, ruffle his hair, hold onto his arm, and Tim wouldn't even make a complaint. And how Tim would almost never look happy, least of all smile, which made those moments he did so unusual. Like when Dick would do something stupid, or how Mr. Wayne would give praise, or their butler, Alfred would say something so kind – Tim's smile would suddenly appear and it made things so different. It made Kon realize that Tim only let a few people get close to him, not because he didn't like people, but because he was afraid of them.

"Fun at the mall, boys?" Bruce asked as he started to drive back. He looked back at Tim, making sure everything was in order – all limbs were accounted for, and that the boy didn't looked upset. Kon was already talking though, always making conversation easy.

"Gotham Mall is so much more huge then the one in Kansas. And the girls are so much hotter."

"Good to know."

Dick was laughing at that.

* * *

They arrived back at the house and Tim and Kon went straight up to their bedroom. Kon was staying the week, his little vacation away from the country to the city. He loved coming here. Tim was easily his best friend, and Tim's family was pretty awesome as well. Bruce was an icon of cool, so that was always something. Alfred was so nice, always making the best food and making things comfortable. And then Dick was just awesome to be around, _and_ he was almost nineteen! Usually older kids ignored him, but not Dick Grayson, he acted like they were good friends, which was fine by Kon.

Once the door was closed the two easily lapsed into a fit of boredom. There wasn't that much to do. Kon was lying on the bed, playing video games and Tim was reading a book, what he called 'summer reading'. Kon called it stupid. "We should do something tonight."

Tim looked towards his friend and shrugged. "Like what? It's not like there are a lot of options."

"Can't your dad just drop us somewhere? I haven't been able to actually explore Gotham yet, and I've been here all week now. Where's the fun in malls and movies? And you can't exactly call your house Gotham." Kon rolled over, the game now ignored. "I spend all my time in boring Kansas, and now I'm only a few miles away from the coolest city on earth and we don't even see it."

"There's now way in hell Bruce or Alfred will let us go alone. Trust me."

Kon rolled his eyes. "What's the worst that could happen?" Maybe that was a dumb thing to say, he quickly changed that, going right on to another suggestion. "Well, what if Dick takes us. He's fun to hang out with. Maybe he has some friends, we can hang out with them?"

Tim actually looked amused. He closed the book and put it back on his desk, smirking all the while. "In all your time you've known us has Dick ever gone to hang out with his friends?"

"…I don't know."

"Dick always acts like he's got all these friends, but he doesn't. I mean, he's real social and nice, and people like him, but he doesn't have real friends. He's weird about that." Tim returned to his book. "Bruce is all concerned that Dick'll be rooming with a friend from high school and that they'll do too much stuff and not spend enough on homework. But in all honesty? Dick won't be doing anything like that."

That was a strange thing to say. Kon wondered if this was jealousy or something, because Dick wasn't anything like what Tim was saying. "Are we talking about the same person? I mean Dick, your brother. The social butterfly who everybody loves."

"I know, it's weird, but _trust _me. I never said he didn't have friends, 'cause everybody is his friend. I'm just saying he doesn't have good friends, best friends – people he'd hang out with. I mean, he gets invited all the time, but does he go? No. Don't ask me why, it's just the way he is."

Kon was quiet.

"I take that back, he does have one friend. Barbara Gordon, but she doesn't really count. She's like a sister or something. They go way back."

"That's the girl he's always talking about, right? The commissioner's daughter, the one he says is his future girlfriend?"

Tim just laughed. "Yeah right."

There was the sound of somebody running up the stairs, literally banging with each step, and Kon glanced at Tim. He knew who it was. Only Dick had that much energy to spend on just a simple trip upstairs. They waited, listening, and the bedroom door was flung open and Dick had a huge smile on his face, looking between the two. "I'm bored." He expressed, happily. "What are you guys doing?"

"What are you so happy about?"

"Well, Timmy, if you insist to know…"

Tim just rolled his eyes, knowing that he'd have found out even if he hadn't asked. "Am I allowed to guess?"

"Only if you guess wrong, 'cause I want to tell you what it is."

"Dad let you have the apartment?"

Frowing, acting like he was sad over the matter, Dick pouted. "You weren't supposed to guess right."

"I wasn't trying to. I never thought he'd actually let you have it."

Kon laughed at that, it was always fun to see Tim get sarcastic. Tim knew how to talk smart, that was for sure. It sometimes made him come off as a pompous ass, but after awhile you realized he was just being serious. "Well, since you're in such a good mood, maybe you'll help me and Tim out?"

Dick looked over at Kon and grinned, nodding, not even knowing what they'd ask of him. He went over and took a seat on the bed, waiting to hear what was going to be said, not really caring, far too happy with himself at the moment.

"We wanna' go out in Gotham, look around, but Tim says your dad wouldn't let us go alone, and we don't want Bruce or Alfred with us all night." Kon waited, and saw Dick didn't seem to mind. At least he didn't look angry. "So we thought maybe you could take us. Maybe invite one of your friends, or maybe you could take us to a party or something?"

"You guys are twelve. No way I'm taking you to a party!"

"Well, it was worth a shot."

Tim just rolled his eyes again.

"Gotham isn't exactly the safest place, you know. Especially at night. I don't think Clark or Martha and Jonathan would like it if we took you there. Dad wouldn't even let you guys go. So I don't know why I'm explaining things." Dick shrugged. "I could drive you around, but no walking."

"But tons of people would be out. It's not like we'd be abducted and nobody would know! All you'd have to do is scream and everyone would see. Where's the danger?"

"A lot of people don't really care. I mean, they care more about themselves. So if it's a choice between you dying or both you and them dying, they're going to go with you. Alone. It's not Kansas, it's not Metropolis – this place is different. Besides, Bruce would never let us go, so what's the point of trying?"

Kon thought about that for a second, then smiled. "What if you said we were going to see a movie? There's not harm in that!"

Dick had a serious expression and shook his head. "That's stupid, I'm not lying to Bruce. Why would we do that?"

Tim was muttering something that Dick ignored. Kon sighed, seeing that Dick wasn't going to budge on this and just hoped he'd leave. He suddenly found the older kid less cool. If you couldn't lie to your parents innocently then how were you at all fun? He waited till Dick was gone before telling Tim he thought he was a drag. "Did he seriously say he wouldn't like to your dad? Is he a golden boy, or what?"

"Or what – he just doesn't want to take us. He's lied to Bruce before. Told him he was getting all A's last year and when grades came in he didn't have a single A. In fact he only had two B's, the rest were C's and a D. That was really an interesting night."

"…Ok. Well, what if we lie? The movie theater is in the city. We could walk from there."

Honestly, Tim didn't like the idea either. No more then Dick had probably. He just didn't know how to tell Kon that. Nothing frightened him more then going off alone in the city, like Kon was suggesting. He'd always gone with Dick or Bruce or Alfred, and that was always during the day. "If we got caught you realize how much trouble we'd be in? You'd have to go home."

"How would we get caught?"

"There are a million ways."

"What if we call that one girl – the one you have a crush on? You could tell her to bring one of her friends, and that'd be fun." Kon liked that idea. Girls were way fun to be around. "What was her name? Stacy?"

"It's Stephanie, and I don't have a crush on her!"

"Sure you don't. You just like to talk about her a lot. Sort of like how Dick likes to talk about Barbara."

Tim narrowed his eyes. "I'm not asking her to go to the movies with us."

"I will!" The Kansas teenager rolled off the bed and went to where Tim sat, grabbing his friend's cell phone and moving away as quickly as he had arrived. All at once it was a huge scramble between the two, a wrestling match to see who could manage to get the phone. Kon was stronger then Tim was, but Tim's older brother was Dick Grayson, ex-circus performer, so he knew how to handle these types of situations.

"GIVE ME MY PHONE BACK!"

Kon laughed, pushing away Tim only to have him move with a great deal of speed, coming another way. "You know you want me to call her!" He jerked away.

"If I wanted you to call her I would say: call her!"

"You're shy, we all know this!"

Tim ducked out of the way and slipped his hand up, managing to get a good grip on the phone. He was instantly pushed away again, but he kept coming, relentless. "I don't want you to call her, KON!"

"Why not? You like her don't you?" He stopped pushing his friend away and stared at the other boy, curious now. "What's the problem with calling and asking her out?"

"Because I'm twelve?" Tim snapped, putting his hands on his hips, cocking his head. Why did kids his age act so dumb? Dating was something that, in Tim's opinion, should wait until everyone involved was mature enough. "What would we do? Have our parents drive us around everywhere?"

"That's keeping you from calling the girl?"

"Yes."

"That's, well, I've never heard that argument from a kid before. Usually from parents, maybe, but never from somebody who wanted to date." Kon handed the phone back, unable to argue that point. "Well, what are we going to do tonight then?'

Tim put the phone in his pocket, pleased he had it back, safe and sound. He didn't really care what they were going to do that night, just so long as Kon didn't call Steph. That's all that really mattered. "You already know our options."

"Yeah, and those options suck."

The door slammed open all of the sudden and Dick was back in their presence, the look on his face was one of shock and confusion. "Guess what I just heard!" He ignored Tim's annoyed look from the lack of knocking. He just made his way to the two younger boys, eyes wide with surprise. "I went downstairs, right? And Alfred was looking really happy and so I was like: 'Alfred, what are you so happy about?' Not that he's usually not happy, but he seemed _really_ happy. Like, glowing or something."

Tim just motioned that Dick should get to the point.

"Yeah, so anyhows, he just smiled real big and said that tonight we might have to stay in our rooms. I was like: 'how's that good news?' And he said that Dad had a date."

"A date?" Now it was Tim's turn to be surprised. "With _who_?" This was a shock! Bruce hadn't dated since, well, since Jason's disappearance. That part of his life seemed to be put away for the past two years, so now the news that he was suddenly going to go out was … well, somewhat strange.

Kon just rolled his eyes. This wasn't big news, nor was it interesting.

"That's the huge thing."

"Selena?" Tim ventured, timid with the name, but reasoning that it would make the most sense to say it then anyone else's.

Dick just nodded, and then shock his head. "I can't believe that after all this time they're dating again."

There was a pause in conversation and nobody knew what to say. Dick was a little upset with the news, and he didn't know why. He should be happy that Bruce was dating again – that meant he was starting to heal, and maybe that was what really bothered him. Bruce wasn't supposed to go off and start dating again. He was supposed to be at home, spending his free time _here_ with Dick and Tim. That's what he had done these past two years, and it had been … well, Dick and he had gotten so close. A girl meant … a girl meant things would change.

To Tim the news meant that Bruce was finally feeling good enough to date, which was good. After all, what good was sitting around in the house depressed and lonely? He was a billionaire bachelor, dating was his thing. And beside, he had been happier before, with Selena, so this meant that Bruce might have a shot to be a little bit happier.

And for Kon the news was … boring. He could honestly care less.

"I think I'm going to go ask Dad about it."

"Why?" Tim wanted to know. That idea sounded stupid. Lame. Childish almost. He followed his older brother to the door and sighed, rolling his eyes. "You aren't going to make things weird for him, are you?"

"You care too much." Dick replied, and then closed the door promptly, leaving Kon and Tim alone yet again. The two exchanged looks.

"Let's go see what he's going to do."

"Yippie." Kon wasn't thrilled.

_To be continued…_


	21. Chapter 21

**Characters in Chapter 21: **Bruce Wayne, Richard Grayson, Timothy Drake, Conner Kent, Alfred Pennyworth, Selena Kyle, Barbara Gordon …

"I am a question to the world, not an answer to be heard, or a moment that's held in your arms. And what did you think you'd ever say? I won't listen anyway. You don't know me and I'll never be what you want me to be. And what do you think you'd understand? You can't take me and throw me away. So, how can you learn what's never shown. Yeah, you stand here on your own. They don't know me 'cause I'm not here. And I want a moment to be real, wanna' touch things I don't feel, wanna' hold on and feel I belong. And how can the World want me to change? They're the ones that stay the same. They don't know me, 'cause I'm not here. They can't tell me who to be, 'cause I'm not what they see. Yeah the World is still sleeping while I keep on dreaming for me. And their words are just whispers and lies that I'll never believe. And _you_ see the things they never see, all you wanted I can be, now you know me and I'm not afraid. And I want to tell you who I am; can you help me be a man? They can't break me as long as I know who I am."

_Johnny Rzeznik_

_**You Do Good, You Find Good**_

**Chapter Twenty-One:**

"It's just a question. If you don't want to answer it then you don't have to." Dick squabbled behind Bruce, following the man throughout the house, going to the various places that the billionaire needed to be. They started in Bruce's office, then to the Sitting Room to get some books cleared away, and then to the kitchen so Bruce could ask Alfred about some Charity thing that some family was throwing, and then finally upstairs. They were outside of Bruce's bedroom and the billionaire turned to face the teenager with a heavy sigh.

He knew what this was about, but he hadn't expected it. It was like an interrogation that wouldn't go away, annoying. And the trouble was he didn't have the heart to tell Dick to leave him alone. Bruce felt as though he owed the child some rights to be patient. After all, he hadn't dated anyone in so long.

_Not_ that it mattered, or that it was any of their business.

_Ugh_. Now if only Bruce could convince himself of that. Why did he feel so guilty about having a simple dinner with his old girlfriend? Why did he feel like he was doing something wrong here? Dick's innocent questions spoke in volumes. "Dick, I've already answered your question. I don't know how else to say it – _I don't know_."

Dick had his head turned up, so he could look at Bruce completely, as if not to miss anything, any important details. "Well, if you like her a lot then it will probably become serious."

_Seriously?_ "Dick. Go study or something." He turned and went on into his room, closing the door right in the teenager's face and trying his best to think on other things. Like how he'd get through tonight without making any awkward conversation. He knew Selena wasn't bitter about their previous breakup. If she was, then she wouldn't have agreed to see him tonight. She was understanding. Immensely so. Once you dug past the rough exterior. He quickly showered and change, preparing for dinner, hearing shrieks of laughter as he did so. Apparently Kon and Tim were having a good time down the hall. He was happy for that.

Happy for Conner Kent's friendship to Tim, because god knew Tim could use a good friend.

He was buttoning up his shirt when there was a rapping on his door. "Yes?" He asked, polite, uncertain if it was Alfred or Dick who had come to bother him. If it were Alfred then the butler would probably say that Bruce had done something wrong, combed his hair the wrong direction, put on too much cologne, or forgotten to floss. The butler could always find a flaw, but that's what he was there for. To make sure things went perfectly. And if it were Dick … well, Bruce hoped not.

"Can I come in?" It was Tim.

"Sure." Bruce shrugged on his jacket, smiling at Tim's direction when the door opened. "Something the matter?" It was a fair question. It wasn't like Tim came to talk to him like this all the time. "Kon hurt you?"

"_No_." Indignant. "Alfred said I had to ask you if it would be ok if Kon and I went to go see a movie tonight?"

"That sounds ok." That sounded wonderful! That meant that Bruce wouldn't have to worry about two of the three kids. More of the house to himself and Selena. "You should ask Dick to go with you."

"Well, actually … that's sort of the thing."

Bruce nodded, hands going into his pockets as he waited to hear what the 'thing' was.

"Alfred can't drive us, so he said we needed to get Dick to take us. But Dick said he didn't want to."

"…Tell Dick that I said he needs to. It's not as if he has other plans that will be interfered with." Bruce paused. "Does he?" There was no telling with Dick.

"Well, no."

"Ok, then tell him."

A smile. It wasn't real, but it meant Bruce had made Tim happy, so that was something. Tim hurried out of the room, off to tell his brother the news, and more then pleased that he had gotten his way. He didn't bother knocking, like he had with Bruce, just walked right into Dick's bedroom with a satisfied look on his face. "Bruce said you have to take us."

Dick looked like he had just gotten ready for bed. His hair was wet and he wore his drawstring pants and an undershirt, clearly not planning to do anything public that night. He was sprawled out on the floor, in front of the television, game controller in hand, playing away. That was his hobby, as of late, and he had literally hundreds of games. Some never touched. They were gifts from Bruce just because the billionaire knew it helped distract.

Tim couldn't deny the small amount of jealousy that was there. He loved Dick, but his older brother was … a pain in the ass. Always the favorite, always making Alfred and Bruce laugh, even making Tim laugh despite himself. He listened, he understood. Even though he didn't get the grades Tim did, or have the perfect reputation. Even though he was stupidly in love with a girl three years older then him who didn't return the feelings. Even though he acted like he was ten years younger … everybody still loved Dick. It wasn't fair. "Did you hear me? Bruce said you have to take us."

"I heard you, but I ain't gonna' take you anywhere."

There was Jason talking through Dick. Tim hated when that happened. Dick struggled to sound like Jays sometimes, and it always made him so … MAD! "You know how to talk."

Dick paused the game and sat up, looking over his shoulder at Tim and shaking his head. "I'm not going to take you guys. I told you why, and I know you don't really have intentions to go see any movie."

"Actually, we do."

A sigh and Dick just shook his head. "Yeah right."

"It doesn't matter what you think, Bruce says you have to take us. Invite Barbara or something, if it will make you feel better."

"She's busy tonight."

_Shocking_. Tim bit his tongue and kept his thoughts to himself, like he usually did. "Well, you can ask anyone, we don't care. But Bruce said."

Dick was getting to his feet, and quickly walked past Tim and out the door, going down the hall. "I'll be right back. I just want to real quick make sure Dad didn't mishear you." And with that he walked right into his guardian's bedroom. Tim followed right behind, unwilling to be treated so stupidly. "Bruce, Tim said that you said that I have to take them to the movies?"

Bruce seemed surprised by the intrusion, but nodded despite himself. "That's right. I would like you to go with them."

"I don't think you realize that they don't actually plan to go to a movie. I was talking with them earlier and Kon was trying to get me to sneak them out of the house so they could go walk around Gotham, try and find something 'interesting' to do. I told them no, and they tried to get me to take them -."

"Kon was being dumb, Dick." Tim folded his arms cross his chest. "And if you came with us to the movies how would we sneak out? Besides, we're twelve. What could we possibly do?"

"…You both sounded pretty serious when I was talking to you a few hours ago."

"Yeah, and maybe he was a bit serious. He's bored, and I don't blame him. But he's also not from Gotham, he comes from the country – he doesn't know how things work here."

There was a silence, and Dick didn't seem at all happy with the fact that he'd been out argued. He knew that when he has spoken to Tim and Kon they both had seemed to like the idea of getting out, and now Tim was making him look like the bad guy. "I still don't want to take them."

"_Dick_." Bruce didn't whine the name, but if he could, he would. He forced himself to be reasonable and stern. "I'm not asking a lot. Alfred can't take them and I can't either. Try and put yourself in their place."

"You just want us all out of the house."

"You're being dramatic." Bruce pointed out. "I don't see why you're so uncomfortable with me dating Selena again."

"SEE! HA! You _are_ dating her."

"…Dick, I want you to get your keys and take them to the movie. And if they want to go get something to eat, then take them to get something to eat. You both have a card, so I trust you'll be fine." He made his move, trying to leave before any more complaints were made.

* * *

"I'm glad you're doing this."

Bruce lifted his head from his dinner plate and looked over at the woman to his left. She was looking at him, there was no smile, but she did look happy despite it. He offered up confusion. "Having you over?"

"Not just _that_." Selena Kyle had hardly touched any of her food. Neither of them had, really. She was sitting up straight, shoulders forward now as she leaned closer to him. "Putting yourself in the availability corner again. It's been too long since Gotham women have gone without their Bruce Wayne. I've gone to long." She always did that. Her words and tone would say one thing, but underneath it all there was concern. She had worried many a days about this man, and wanted so badly to help. Why couldn't she just be serious with him? Stop the flirting act? God knew she didn't really need it. "How have you been?"

That was the second time tonight she had asked that, but this time was different then the first. It was deeper; a more in-depth answer would be required. "…I'm glad you came tonight."

"Well, I'm glad I did too."

Bruce put his napkin on top of his place and shrugged, leaning back, smiling at the woman, wondering if he really meant it. "You're wanting more then that, aren't you?"

"Well, yes. But only if you want to tell me. I don't want to force you to say anything you don't want to say. It has been a long time since we've done _anything_ together, and I've missed … missed it."

"I have too. I actually was thinking of calling you a few years ago. We were at Clark's parent's house and …" His voice trailed off. "I missed you then."

"We're always on and off with each other. If either of us gets married we'll be forced to have an affair every couple of years."

Bruce hoped she never married anyone. She wasn't supposed to get married, and if she did … well, he figured it should be to him. Not that he was anywhere near ready for that sort of commitment. _You aren't_? Ducking his head only made Selena laugh and she said he was cute.

They had been like this since Bruce's college years. For a time they had been so serious, Bruce wondered if Dick had never come along if they wouldn't be married now with their own children. He couldn't even imagine it. What a strange difference that would be. No Dick. No Jason. No Tim. No Clark or any of Clark's family. Where would he be? Happier?

Selena was talking again, her voice low, a beautiful deep sound. Lulling. "Maybe our spouses will be alright with that though. Maybe they'll fall for each other every few years and we won't feel so guilty about the cheating aspect of it."

"How about you? Are you anywhere near marriage?"

She laughed at that question and just shook her head, sipping her wine. "Bruce, if I were that serious with a guy I hardly think I'd have come tonight, drank your wine in your empty house."

"Alfred's here."

"I love Alfred." Everybody loved Alfred. "I've missed him too. Sometimes more then you, I'll have you know."

"I believe it."

She just laughed.

"Can I ask you a favor?" Bruce started, his voice slow, each word planned. He lifted his eyes to meet Selena's and waited.

She nodded with a smile still on her face.

"You know how things are with the press. They'll have known about this dinner."

"That's because I told them."

He shook his head, smiling, but ignoring the small remark. "And they'll start asking the questions."

"If we're a couple." She knew about that already. "It's ok, I'll be sure to let them know we're just friends getting back together."

"Well, I was hoping that maybe you could tell them that you're thinking about more then just that."

Now she was quiet, nothing clever to say. She swayed a little, and forced a smile.

"I'd like you to consider dating me again, Selena. I know I've been inconsistent, unfair with keeping you away, and hard to deal with. But I've always loved you best. And since it's been so long, and we've both done some changing, I thought maybe you might like the new me enough to consider it."

She reached out, putting her hand to his face for a moment and then pulling it back. "Bruce – it's only been _one_ dinner. And as far as I can see we're both the same people. You keep to yourself just like you always do."

"You asked how I've been earlier. I'll answer, if you'd like."

"I don't want you to answer from obligation. I want you to answer because you want to tell me. And if you don't, then that's just _fine_."

"…Let me tell you."

She waited.

"I've been hurt." He started, struggling to make this as easy as he could. He didn't want to come across as overbearing, or a complainer. And besides, he wasn't doing so well – he knew that. He didn't want to scare her away with the truth. "And it's been very, _very_ hard. But, you knew that. Who wouldn't know about that …" He chuckled it away.

"I didn't know that."

"It's hard to think about, but it seems that's usually all I can do. Dick seems to be doing the best out of all of us, but sometimes I wonder if that's even true. He won't come to terms with Jason's death most days, and he dreams a lot. Has to take medication to make things better, but he smiles so much it's hard to think he's got anything troubling him ever. And Tim … god, you should see him now. He's … well, he's sullen. Better then before, smarter, grown up. Sometimes I think he's too smart for his own good."

She smiled.

* * *

The movie was over within just a few hours, and both Tim and Kon were oddly enough in good moods, even if their plan to sneak out hadn't been fulfilled. They were only twelve, after all, and there was so much change about, that disappointments were constants. Besides, the movie had put them in a certain mood, like good movies often do. They felt powerful, more so then before, like perhaps change was within them. A silly concept, but moving nevertheless, and they were young enough to believe it.

"Where's your brother?" Kon had been waiting to ask that question for a little while now. He waited till they had gotten out of theater 6 and waited till the crowd thinned out. There was no sign of Dick Grayson.

Tim shrugged, expecting Dick to come out with some strangers, laughing with them, talking about the movie. Dick was one to find friends in every place. They three hadn't sat together because Tim and Kon were a bit sore with Dick as it was, so Dick had separated and sat in the back of the theater, in good spirits despite his brother's disproval.

"Think he's getting revenge on us? Bet he left, drove off to get even."

"No. He's not _that_ dumb." Tim answered, finally going back into the dark theater. All he could see now were the production crew glumly cleaning up coke cups and popcorn containers. He tried to avoid eye contact with them, feeling a bit guilty, then turned back out as quick as he could. "Not in there. Let's check the bathrooms!" He took off in a sprint, and Kon followed, laughing because he knew that Tim had left his coke in there.

* * *

Dick Grayson sat outside of the Theater Building, on the edge of the sidewalk. His feet on the pull through street where cars passed by on their way to their homes or on their way to see a movie. Come or go, it mattered. Dick looked at them all, glancing to be indiscreet as made up different situations for these strangers. All of them had probably been through something tragic. He knew that.

He listened to the music from his Ipod, tucked in his pocket, set on random play – finding that option the most fun. Pleased to see people smile when they made eye contact, pleased when they blushed at it, and pleased when the completely ignored him. _Takes all types of people to make the World go round_. Besides, music made everything so much more pleasant.

Anyone of these people could have seen Jason at one point in time. Dick took on a new seriousness with that thought. These people, one of them, might know Jason even now. Maybe they knew how to get to him – how to save him.

"What are you doing?"

So, Tim and Kon were done with their movie. Dick pulled one of his earphones out and grinned up at his little brother. "People watching. How was the movie?"

"…We've been looking for you all over."

"I had my cell on."

"Bad reception in theaters, Dick."

"Came outside to call, and found me?"

Tim just looked at Kon, and then gave Dick a stare. Exasperation. That was the look. Dick got that all the time from Bruce. Tim was following his guardian's path more closely then he realized sometimes. Dick already knew he was a lost cause in that area, but he was comforted with the thought that Tim was so good at it.

_Changed_. That's right! Dick use to be like Tim. Smart, level headed, unwilling to believe in magic. He had gone to school, had decent friends, had a few good friends, done what Bruce had wanted … but now? Dick just smiled, because that always helped.

Now Dick wasn't that at all. He had changed into _this_. And sometimes he was so sure he liked himself better. Even though he didn't like what had forced him into the alteration.

And Tim? Did Tim like his new self better? Did he miss being babied? Did he wish he could go back to replying only on his family, and looking up to his brothers? Now Tim couldn't really look up to Dick. Or at least Dick didn't think he could.

"You guys ready to go home yet?" Dick jumped up, getting on his feet and smiling to a girl passing, hand in hand with some young man. Neither of them looked like they thought returning the smile was a good idea, yet they did it anyway. "Or are you hungry, like Bruce said you'd be?"

"I don't care." Tim answered, looking at Kon, wanting to know how his friend felt. Kon just shrugged at first, but when pressed, he muttered that he was a little hungry.

"But I can eat back at the house. I don't want to keep you from seeing your Dad's new girl, if it means that much to you."

Dick gave it some thought then pulled out his cell phone. "Let me make a real quick phone call, and then we can decide what we'll do. Ok? Be just a second!" He took off running away, leaving Kon and Tim to themselves once again. He was back within a minute or two, huge smile on his face, apparently delighted with the phone call he had made.

The reason for that didn't take long to be revealed. Dick made sure he was composed before telling it how it was, nonchalantly (or trying hard to be) explaining he wanted to meet up with a friend so the odds would be evened out. That friend was unnamed, but Tim wasn't born yesterday – he figured that Dick probably would only call one person.

"You called Barbara, didn't you?"

"I thought you liked Babs?" Dick asked.

"It was just a question. Just wanted to know who we'd be eating with is all." He felt Kon looking away, and gave a blurted laugh that Dick raised an eyebrow at.

"What's so funny?"

Kon was laughing now too, though he tried to hide it with a cough.

"You guys are stupid." Dick announced and then turned away, walking towards his car, pleased despite being teased. He'd be able to catch up with Barbara, see her in person, talk with her, and that meant so much. She was his best friend, and yeah, he liked her a lot, but so what if she didn't return those feelings? He could deal with that. Besides, she was the one who helped him get through Jason's …

She had stayed on the phone with him for hours while he did nothing, or said nothing. She had come over and just been there. Sometimes she'd make him talk, but sometimes she'd just be there. To sit through a movie, to eat dinner, or to just be there when Bruce was at work, it didn't matter if he had a reason or not, she'd come.

* * *

They arrived at some podunk place, Barbara was already there, looking more then eager for them to join her. She smiled brightly and Tim could tell Kon was suddenly interested in Dick's friend. He made a point to slow his walk down to a stroll, stand up straight, and set his jaw. Barbara herself seemed to notice, as she gave a sweet smile in his direction.

Tim just rolled his eyes.

"Hey Babs, don't think you've met Conner yet, have you?" Dick began, unaware of the happenings around him. He motioned towards the preteen with a goofy grin. "I've told you about him though."

"Yes you have. Clark's relative, right? You go by Kon?"

Kon nodded by jerking his head up. "That's right."

"And you'd be twelve."

"Almost thirteen."

"It's all the same to me." Barbara replied politely. "After all, I'm – what – nine years older?"

For a moment Kon seemed confused, but then it clicked. "You aren't the same age as Dick?"

"No, three years older."

"So you don't have a problem with dating younger guys?"

She gave him a look and put her head to the side, scrutinizing him for a moment. "Honey, you're a bit too young for me."

Tim and Dick burst out laughing and Kon just ducked his head, muttering while he blushed. Barbara moved over for Dick to sit beside her and the four got their dinner. Kon and Barbara made up quickly, even if some pride had been hurt in the original exchange, it was soon forgotten. It was a good time, until Barbara asked what Bruce and Alfred did to deserve a free night.

Dick froze for a moment and then forced his usual smile. His philosophy was that smiling always made things better and he found that true in almost all circumstances. There were many types of smiles. He wore a happy one, as if he were about to say something very good.

Tim answered the question. "Bruce is back with Selena. They're on a date tonight. We thought we'd give them the house for a few hours."

"A few hours is all it takes." Kon said, and he was elbowed by his best friend.

"That is good news." Barbara said in a matter of fact way. "Bruce hasn't dated in a long time, this is very good." She seemed to be directing her words at Dick, though she spoke to them all. "I remember when they were together before. They always seemed … so happy."

"Yeah. Dad was really happy about it." Dick was finally talking now, smile still in place. "You should have seen him getting ready. Like prom, or something. Alfred too, you'd think he was going out with his dream girl. Think he really wanted them back together."

"Did I tell you who I talked with last night?" Barbara was now just talking with Dick, leaving Kon and Tim to a fight for the last remaining fries. She ignored them and continued right on with her story. "Roy Harper. And he was telling me that he hasn't heard from you in a long time."

"I don't get online much."

"Well, you could call him. He said Ollie and Dinah separated again."

"They're always on and off." Dick took the straw between his fingers and tried to suck up the remnants of his coke, only getting air.

"Roy says he's probably not going to college. He had been staying with Dinah, but he's worried that he should probably get his own place to keep the peace." It were as if she was trying to get Dick to admit to something, her eyes searching him constantly.

"Maybe he should come to Gotham for a change, huh?" Dick laughed. "He's a fun guy, gets along with people. I doubt he'll have any trouble going out on his own. He's always been independent, you know? Never really paid what Ollie said any mind. And besides, he's got Conner there now."

Kon looked up.

"Not you, another Conner."

Kon looked away.

"Yes." Barbara sighed, seemingly upset. "It's just that … I think he'd like it if you called and talked to him. You hardly ever do."

"Well, we don't really know each other. We hung out a few times, that's all."

"But you guys get along so well! You use to always call him – it's just as if these last few months you've decided to stop all contact. And that'd not fair to him. He's worried about you."

"I don't know why!"

"Stop being a dusche and call him."

Rather then fighting anymore, Dick just nodded. "Ok, I will. I'll call him."

* * *

"So she's gone home then?" The question was as innocent as it could be, Dick casually sat beside his guardian on the couch, and refusing to make eye contact, too afraid Bruce might see past his attempt to 'not care'. He was happy for Bruce. He really, _really_ was. This wasn't about him, it was about _Bruce_. Dick could see outside himself. He could care about his family. There really wasn't much in the way of options. "Did you have a good time?"

"Yes. We did." Bruce smiled, muting the television and turning just ever so slightly so he could see the teenager better. He smiled, comfortable and happy with himself. It had been a good night. "Thanks for taking the boys. They seem pretty happy with themselves."

Dick just nodded, bobbing his head up and down; unable to think things through enough to realize he was overacting. "Just wanted to let you have some peace and quiet for Selena. Figured you two had a lot to catch up on."

"It's strange how easily we fell back into the routine of where we had been before. It's been years, and so much has … has changed." He sighed, just thinking about it. Honestly he was amazed how much things stayed the same despite all the new differences. "I don't know if that's a good thing or if it's bad."

"I think it's a good thing." That statement was very forced, and yet Dick said it despite what he wanted.

Bruce took note. He reached out and tussled the raven locks, pleased with the attitude his teenager was displaying. "Thank you."

They were quite for time as Bruce turned the volume back up on the television, and for awhile they just watched the screen flicker from motion to motion. It wasn't till Tim came downstairs, brushing his teeth that they phased back into reality.

Dick noted his brother but then quickly ignored him, more focused on the TV set. Bruce, on the other hand, offered a smile. "Somebody steal your bathroom?"

The toothbrush came out and Tim shrugged. "Kon's taking a shower."

"You had a good time tonight?"

"It was good. Dick had fun with Barbara."

Dick spun around, surprised to see Tim teasing him. He couldn't help but blush a bit.

"Is that so? I didn't hear about that part of the night."

"Well, she wasn't doing anything – and she was hungry." Dick stammered, becoming all the more red. He caught himself and looked between his guardian and baby brother, then huffed a little. "So what? It's not a secret."

"That's for sure!" Tim answered with a grin. "If it were anymore obvious … well, wait, it couldn't."

"Did you just make a joke?" Dick offered up a smile. He didn't let the opportunity go so quickly. He slid over the couch and went right for his brother, who attempted to make a quick getaway. But that failed. Dick managed to catch him and wrestle him to the ground. Bruce ignored them now, his attention back on the TV.

"Get offa' me!" Toothpaste came from Tim's mouth, accompanying the words he spoke. "You're heavier then you think you are."

"But you made a joke! Timmy … you were being lighthearted!"

Tim just pushed Dick away and snuck to his freedom; somewhat giving off a bad aura as he did so.

Dick just laughed, still sitting on the floor, looking up at his brother.

Rather then mouthing off something sarcastic, Tim whipped around and left the room, going back upstairs to see if he could get in the bathroom now. The toothpaste was getting old in his mouth, and he still had to shower and get into some pajamas.

Oh wait … not pajama's. Kon had made fun of him for having a matching set of pajamas. He was told to loose the matching shirt. So he had, and Kon explained that a T-shirt was more then enough.

"You have to admit that Prince has more talent then people realize."

Dick, who had been off in his own little world, snapped right back out of it and turned his attention to Bruce, who was apparently watching some special about _Prince_. "What talent?"

"Well, think about all the influence he's had, and the hundreds of songs he's made. I mean there's some genius in there."

"Prince is a retard."

Bruce turned, quirking an eyebrow. "That's quite the statement."

"It's true. He's literally a retard."

"No he's not, Dick. Stop it. If you disagree, that's fine – but don't make up stories."

Dick flopped beside his guardian, a very solemn expression. "It's very true. I know his mother … Queen."

For a moment Bruce sat there, in disbelief, then took a throw pillow and knocked Dick upside the head with it. Turning off the television he got up. "You're a retard."

Laughing, the gypsy shook his head. "That's quite the statement! If you disagree with me, then that's fine – but don't make up stories."

"I see why Tim left."

Dick watched the man go and for a moment felt all his joy just fade away. It always happened like this. Nobody stayed around to fight him more, or toss him to the ground and beat him up for being stupid. There was nobody who would argue till they got their own way, and then cuss up a storm when they were cornered. No matter how happy Dick got, he'd always find a way to return to missing Jason.

A smile slowly fading, but still in place, Dick shrugged to himself. He was ok. Just another day in the year. "See Jays," he whispered, still smiling, "this is why you need to come on home."

Silence.

Dick chuckled.

_To be continued…_


	22. Chapter 22

_**You Do Good, You Find Good**_

**Chapter Twenty-Two:**

Summer was so close. Spring had arrived to Gotham, and it seemed like the year had passed with so much ease it weren't possible. Where had the time gone? Hadn't it just been the start of a new school year? Now universities were entering their last few weeks, and grade schools had hardly a month left. To most, it meant freedom was within reach. Though, to Timothy Drake, he hardly could stand the fact. What was he going to do during these next few months to stay occupied? How was he going to keep as busy as he had been? It was a problem he faced the last few years. When in school he could study, advance, and keep his mind engaged in books.

He had wanted to take summer classes. Last year he had been able to, but Alfred had talked to Bruce, and it wasn't going to happen. The butler thought Tim needed some time to be a kid, that he was too focused on his schooling, and needed to make an effort to be sociable. For whatever reason, the billionaire had actually _agreed_. Tim let them know how he felt about that by becoming more of a recluse than before, but it was short lived. Staying mad at Alfred was impossible.

So, he manned up to the fact that he was going to spending his summer lazing about.

_Just great._

At least Dick would be coming back home to live again. At least that would offer some entertainment. Tim tried to convince himself that they'd become buddies. That his older brother wouldn't be as annoying as he usually was. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, right?

"You've been sitting out here for the past hour."

Tim jerked his head around and lifted his head up, surprised at the voice behind him. He hadn't heard anyone approach. After all, he was sitting on the front stairs to the main entrance of the manor. The doors opening was loud enough to be heard from his bedroom, so why he had been oblivious to them now … Oh well, Bruce was standing behind him, waiting for some kind of answer. "I'm just thinking."

"Alfred told me to make sure you were ok."

"I'm fine."

The billionaire shrugged, shoving his hands into the crooks of his arms. "This is your thinking spot, huh?"

_Thinking spot? _Tim wasn't sure he liked that. It was just a good place to come and take a breather. Maybe he needed to invest time into finding a new spot to chill, definitely someplace a little less conspicuous. "I dunno."

"Well, I'd ask if your homework was done, but I think it's safe to assume it is. Am I right?"

"It's been done for weeks, Dad."

"Just checking." Bruce paused. "I just got off the phone with Dick. He said you never call him."

"What's to say? He never calls me. Besides, he's home most every week at least once."

"Maybe you can tutor him this summer, since the whole summer lesson plan didn't work out. Figure you're probably at his level."

That was untrue. Tim scuffed his foot on the marble and thought about that statement. He was thirteen. Dick was almost six years older than him. Besides, his brother might have gotten lazy the past few years, but he wasn't stupid. He had been one of the smartest kids from his high school. Tim wasn't advancing _that_ quickly. "Dick could probably tutor me."

"Not the way his grades are looking."

"Oh no." There was sarcasm. It was hard to talk with Bruce about stuff, but the billionaire never made it any easier. He'd always talk about Dick. Alfred had said it was because Dick actually _talked_ to Bruce and told him what was going on, unlike Tim. But, what was there to say that Bruce didn't already know? And it wasn't like the thirteen-year-old had such an interesting life that he thought it warranted a conversation.

Bruce didn't seem to pick up on anything. He looked over the skyline, as if he was checking to make sure it was all align, the way it should be. Tim imagined Bruce lecturing nature, or the elements, telling them to try a little harder, and that Dick…

"Well, at least you seem to be making an honorable effort."

"Thanks."

"Keep up the good work Tim." Bruce said, and then turned to go. He left the thirteen-year-old, though he honestly wished he could have spent some more time there. It was just that Tim was _so_ hard to talk to. What had happened to that little boy who had been so easy to get affection from? It was hard to not blame himself, because maybe after Jason … after _that_ … maybe Bruce hadn't been around enough. Maybe he had become too distant. So much had changed in all of them, and some days the billionaire just wished he could have things go back to the way they were.

No, it was more than a _wish_.

To get Jays back, he'd do anything.

There was nothing _worse_ than having to wake every night to nightmares. Bruce blamed himself for not being protective enough. He should have saved Jason.

'_Help me, Dad!' _

That was the voice in his head, playing over and over. In the night, he'd see horrible scenes – Jason suffering, just wanting to be rescued. But … Bruce hadn't been able to do that. He hadn't been able to save the day. And to make things worse, he sometimes wondered if he had destroyed more than just _one_ life. Tim seemed so far away some days.

_Too_ far. Bruce idled for a moment, hand on the door knob. He glanced back and saw Tim was looking at him, confused.

"You ok, Dad?"

"Fine." _Liar._

* * *

"As I said last week, we're having a guest come in to talk during class today. I want you all to give him your respectful attention. His name has been changed for his protection, but his story is real enough. Any names he mentions have also been changed. Are there any questions?" The criminology teacher paced back and forth before the class, hands crossed behind his back as he occasionally glanced up to see if the students were listening. His attention, as well as his students, was found suddenly focused on the back entrance, as the door squeaked open and a late student strolled in. "Grayson."

The tardy student shot a weak smile and lifted his hand in a semi-wave. "Sorry I'm late, Mr. Hadley." He made his way down, coming to the first row and taking a seat. "Sorry."

"I suppose Eric is late as well?" Hadley shook his head. "Never mind, we only have two hours, so let's get started. As I was saying, the guest today was released from prison not but a few months ago. He'll be sure to fill you in on his story and answer any questions you might have. Once again: attentive and respectful." The professor walked over to the door on his left, the one that lead to the teacher's lounge, and pulled it open. "We're ready for you."

The man who entered the classroom appeared normal enough. He was tall with a huge frame, and his hair was jet black. For a moment it almost seemed like his eyes were the same, but upon a second glance you could see they were merely dark blue. His facial features were sharp due to his cheekbones, and Dick Grayson couldn't help but stare in confusion. He _knew_ this man somehow. He recognized the face, the eyes, but he didn't know from where or how.

Mr. Hadley took a seat next to Dick, soundless, his eyes forward, nodding to the man now standing in his place.

"Hello." The voice was that of a smoker, rough and deep. He was quiet for a moment, and then began again. "Hi. They said ta' make sure I give ya' a fake name, so let's just call me Ted for now. They, uh, they asked me here ta' tell my story, said ya' want to get a college education in justice and stuff. That's good, so long as ya' do it straight. I seen good cops, I seen bad cops, hope that ya' guys do it right." He looked over at Mr. Hadley, and shrugged, a sigh was released as he struggled with his speech. He pulled something out of his pocket and unfolded it, notes that he had scribbled before coming. "I never finished high school and I wish I had, it's hard ta' find good work without any degree. I suppose that's part of why I made so many bad choices."

A cough from the back of the room distracted 'Ted' and he turned a little red, as if noticing the crowd of students for the first time.

"Uh, anyways, I knocked this girl up and we had a kid. We didn't stay together though, and when she died I got the kid. He was, uh, I think six. I wasn't nice to him, just like I wasn't nice to his mama, and I wish I had been. I lost custody of him a little after because I drank so much. I accidently started to hit some other kid I thought was mine, and they took me in. I had other charges, so they put me in the big house. I stayed there for a long time, and nobody came to see me. It gave me lots of time to think 'bout stuff, I wished I had done right."

Dick squinted, as if that would help him figure out who this man was talking. He hardly listened to what was being said, rather focused on how familiar this guy looked. Without thinking, he raised his hand.

Mr. Hadley shook his head, motioning for Dick to put it down.

"Uh, yeah?" 'Ted' asked, clearing his throat.

"Are you from Gotham then?"

"Yeah. I was born in the Alley, lived there till they brought me in. I'm back there now. Guess I don't really know where else to go." He didn't smile at Dick, but managed to look the teenager in the eyes. In that instant Dick realized how he knew this man. The shock was enough to make him snap back in his seat, as if stung, brining everyone's attention on him yet again.

Mr. Hadley opened his mouth to chide the teenager, figuring he was just being disruptive, but the look on Dick's face made him rethink the lecture. "Grayson?"

'Ted' was looking between the professor and the Romanian teen, wondering what he should do. The way this Grayson kid was looking made him uncomfortable. It looked as if the kid were scared of him. _Really_ scared. '_Do I know this fucking kid?_' He shifted his weight, clearing his throat. "You ok, kid?"

"Grayson!" Hadley furrowed his brow, a bit apologetic towards the guest up front.

Dick slowly shook his head, forcing himself to look over at his professor. "M'ok. Sorry, sorry … just, just felt sick for a moment there. Sorry."

"Any more interruptions and I am going to have to ask you to leave."

"Yes sir."

"Sorry Ted, please continue."

The ex-con did as instructed, weary, and occasionally looking over at the Grayson kid. He knew something was up. The teenager was as white as a ghost, and his breathing was too rapid. _Yeah,_ something was up. Nevertheless, he told of his time in prison, what it was like, what he learned – all the bullshit he knew was the right stuff to say. He might have done some stupid shit before, but he was smart enough to know how to get a good rap. It was how he got out early, how he was able to give this speech, probably earning brownie points with the community. Tell a bunch of college brats about right and wrong, he could do that. Though, it would have been a lot easier without this kid staring him down like he was holding the room at gunpoint.

"I got out and didn't much know what to do. I went back home, but there weren't nothing there to make it home no more. The apartment building I'd lived in was turned to some cheap motel, and most my friends were either dead or in prison. Guess it's what I shoulda' suspected, but I didn't. It wasn't till a few days later that I ran into an old friend who told me that my kid was dead too." He paused, seeing the Grayson kid flinch. "They don't tell you shit when you're behind bars. Apparently I didn't have any rights to the kid anymore, so they figured I wouldn't care… oh _fucking_ shit. You're _Grayson_?"

The response was simple. "Your Jason's dad."

Now Hadley was looking at Ted like he was holding the class at gunpoint. "You two know each other?" His ass was on the line if these two had some sort of history. He had run a background check, hadn't it cleared? Was there something he missed? _Probably._ By the looks of it Grayson knew Ted and Ted knew Grayson, and they weren't pleased at their reunion.

"Oh fuck, that's just _great_." Ted looked towards Hadley, eyes narrowing. "I ain't gonna' be held responsible for this shit."

Ok, now was the time to take some sort of action. The professor got to his feet, motioning for Ted to step aside, and took the microphone. "We'll call it a day class, read through the next chapter and answer the review questions. We'll quiz on it next time."

A hand shot up. "What about attendance, you didn't take it yet!"

"We'll worry about that next time, please – everyone out."

The class all began to make their way out of the lecture hall, gathering up their things and leaving. It was hard not to look between Ted, Dick, and their professor. It was a curious situation, and they left right when it started getting interesting. It took everyone about three minutes to clear out, during which none of the three up front said a word. Dick remained in his seat, arms folded across his chest, staring at the top of his desk, between a glare and concern.

"I think we have a situation here." Hadley began.

"Damn right, they put a restraining order on me. I ain't supposed to be _near_ this kid. I had no _fucking_ clue he'd be _here_. Otherwise I'd never of come."

"It's a misunderstanding." _Oh shit_, he'd be chewed out for this slip up. "I'm not sure what the history is here, but I'm sure Mr. Grayson won't be pressing charges. If he does, I'll be sure that the police know it wasn't your fault."

"I won't press charges." Dick mumbled, raising his eyes to look at the two. "I didn't know there was a restraining order. I knew Bruce put one up for Jays, but not for me."

"A lot of good that did." There was bitterness in the comment. "Coulda' at least _told_ me my own kid got killed. I did some dumb shit, but coulda' told me."

To this, Dick stood up, and his whole demeanor went from fear to calm. "Jason isn't dead." He stated. "They never found a body."

"Had a funeral."

"Have you heard anything else? About the case?"

'Ted', or rather Willis Todd, pressed his lips tightly together, almost scowling. He was quiet for a moment, debating on if he should continue on talking with this kid or leave. It seemed like the smartest move for him to hightail it out, get away from this kid – but, he felt himself lingering. It wasn't like this kid was a threat. He had said he wouldn't press charges, and he was talking to him nice enough. "Wayne hears about us talking, he'll press charges."

"I won't tell him."

Well, that meant _shit_. He had no reason to trust this kid.

"I swear I won't tell him." Dick repeated, pleading a bit this time. "On Jays' life, I swear."

'_Don't mean much_.' Willis kept his thoughts to himself and shrugged, figuring he'd take a change. "I know they got that nut locked up in Arkham, said he's fucking crazy. Word is that he lost it years before. Had some sort of grudge against Wayne, killed Jason and Shila, and then turned himself in. He admitted to killing them both."

"Not at first though, and they never found a Jason, just Shila. That means he had to of had help, somebody had to have taken Jays, otherwise we would have found him. No way could Jack Naiper hide Jays so well and still be at the scene when the police arrived." It still hurt to talk about, but Dick was brave. Finally, somebody was talking with him, somebody who actually might be able to help. Willis could get information that Dick had never been able to. Willis knew the type of people who would associate with Jack Naiper. And what was more, Willis seemed to have some loyalty to Jays.

"Maybe kid, but far as I know, nobody wanted to work with this guy. He was nuts."

"You could ask around though."

Hadley had been standing on the sidelines, listening in, but quiet. Now, though, he felt like he should step in. "Dick, I think you really should be heading to your dorm room now."

"You could, you know the people who might know something. I'd do it, but I wouldn't know where to start. Even if you gave me names, I'd do it myself." There was excitement in Dick's voice, and that was what made Willis stick around. It was obvious that this kid _really_ thought Jason was alive.

"You wouldn't make it, going around, trying to get that kind of information. Somebody would figure out you were rich, or you'd make somebody nervous, and you'd wind up dead. I ain't having that hang over my head." Willis meant that too. It was clear this kid cared, and he wasn't going to send him to the lions. He owed that much to Jason.

The look of disappointment on Dick's face was deafening. "You have to help me. What if he's alive? He _needs_ help."

"What if he's dead, chances are that's the case. It's been too long."

"If he's dead then he deserves to have his body found and put to rest." Dick said, and then hastily added - "But he's alive."

"Gentlemen, I really can't be a participant in this. As much as I can see that this is an important issue, I know what needs to be done. Dick, talk to your parents, let them know what you are doing. You don't want to be the reason that Willis gets in more trouble." Hadley motioned towards the door with his right hand, signaling that Dick should head out. "Now, please, before we get into any trouble."

To this, Dick nodded. "Sure thing, sir." _Yeah right_. "Could I just get your number, Willis? If my dad says yes, then I'll want to call you and talk."

"You said you weren't telling him we talked."

_Man_. Dick glanced over at Hadley and smiled. "Could you excuse us for just _one_ moment?"

"No." The answer was stern. The professor wasn't stupid. "Say what you need to say and then get going."

"_Ok_." Talk about your nib-nose. "I won't say that we talked. I'll just say that I saw you were out of prison, and that I would really like to contact you about Jays. If he says no, then I'll keep trying till he says yes. I gave you my word, I'll keep it – he won't know we met."

Willis set his jaw, figuring something was up. The kid was just spinning this shit so he could get away from Hadley. "Fine. Gimme some paper." He accepted the notebook handed in his direction and scribbled down the number. "Don't call too fucking early."

A winning smile as Dick turned on his heels, heading for the exit. He lifted his hand in a departing wave. "Never would I ever."

It wasn't but half an hour later that Willis found his phone lighting up. A glance told him he didn't know the number, meaning that it was probably the Grayson kid. _Figures_. "What?"

"Hey, so, I had to say something so I could get your number and get away from Hadley. I don't think he wants any part of this."

"I'm not sure I want any part of this neither."

"Well, neither did Jays. Hey, are you still in the building?"

"Left." Willis was pleased to say that, he had gotten out as fast as he could, getting out onto the campus and hurrying towards the parking garage. He had borrowed his friend's car and put a dollar in the meter, no way did he want any sort of ticket. "And I can't go back there, I got places to be."

"Well, when can you met up with me to talk?"

"…Why don't ya' just call tomorrow, ok? Give me some time to think."

"What's there to think about?"

This kid was a little annoying. _Good_, no ticket on the windshield. Willis unlocked the door and slid in, finally feeling a little less tense. "'Bout talkin' to you. I don't want any trouble from Wayne. He already did his damage."

"That's not fair; all he did was turn you in. Weren't you telling the class that being in jail gave you time to realize that you were wrong?"

"I say a lot of things."

To this, Dick laughed. "Well either way, just promise me you'll answer when I call tomorrow."

"I'll answer, so long as it's afternoon." And with that Willis hung up, feeling it was in his best interest. He was nervous about this situation, worried that Wayne would find out. The last thing he needed was to get into trouble for trying to _help_ someone. Least of all Wayne's kid.

'_Nice kid though_.' His thoughts drifted a bit, wondering if Jason had turned out like that, if he ever made something of himself. Willis hoped he had, as much as he hated to admit being wrong, he knew he had been cruel to his boy. Jason deserved to live with Bruce Wayne, up in the expensive house, getting an education, his needs being met, and after talking with Dick … Willis could see that he had been loved as well.

Ok. He had done a lot of stupid things - a lot of _bad_ things. So, even if it meant getting into trouble, he'd do what he could to help. It was the least he could do to try and atone for the wrong he had done to Jason.

'_Doubt the Grayson kid knows everything that happened_._' _Willis hoped that were true. No way would anyone be this kind to someone who had done the things that he had. Dick probably was clueless. Jason probably wouldn't ever talk about it, and Wayne probably never said anything out of respect for the boy. _'Shit_.'

* * *

"This is a nice place." Dick looked around Willis's one room apartment and wondered if this was anything like where Jason had lived before coming to the Manor. It was dirty, trash spilling out of the trashcan, a mountain of dirty dishes sitting in black water. It smelled like somebody was smoking marijuana. Dick had a sinking suspicious Willis knew.

"Ain't no mansion."

"I wasn't complaining."

"Just sit down wherever."

That was easier said than done. The only option was the folding chair against the wall, and it had some sort of creature on it, one could only assume a cat. "I'd hate to make your pet move."

Willis briskly walked over and lifted up the cat, tossing it to the ground. The poor thing was skin and bones, and one nasty attitude. It hissed and tried to bite the man. "It ain't even mine."

"Why keep it then? Seems like it's not so tame."

"I'd rather have it then rats. Fuckin' hate rats."

"I hear they make good pets, rats that is."

The look Willis gave in reply was one of disbelief, disgust, and confusion – as if it were the worst idea he had ever heard.

"You've never heard that?"

Willis wasn't so sure about this kid at times. He simply shook his head and found a seat in a stiff chair that looked as reliable as this partnership. It was hard to tell what was going to happen, and sometimes there was the urge to back out and forget the whole thing. It'd make the most sense on his part, and yet here Willis Todd sat, facing Richard Grayson, talking about working together to help the very being that had made them enemies. "I did some looking around, talked to a few people, but even that only gets you so far, you know what I mean?"

Honestly, no. Dick didn't know what that meant. He moved his head side to side, then up and down, and then he ended the display with a shrug. "It means that you didn't find anything out?"

"It means that I _can't_ find anything out."

"…Because?"

"Because I ain't got the money for the information. I don't got the muscle or rep. I go up to these guys who know something and I ask, and they just tell me to get the fuck out. They ain't even afraid, just greedy and assholes. I've been gone a long time, and people don't know me so well no more."

"So you want money?" Dick didn't like the sound of that. This was a fine line. He could give Willis the money and find out that he had played the fool. "How much money?"

"A lot." Willis said. He leaded over the arm of the chair and pulled up some dirty clothes, digging through the pocket of a pair of jeans. He found a cigarette and lit it up, knowing perfectly well that Grayson was going to struggle with this idea of coughing up some funds. It would mean dipping into his trust fund, assuming he could. The kid was in school, Wayne probably controlled his money. "We're talking about big players here, the crazy ones. We want information from Arkham, and that means crazy. I don't know 'bout you, but I'm sorta' nervous 'bout walking into some crazy guys hideout and asking him what he knows."

"You have someone in mind?"

A cough, which turned into more of a choke from the smoke of the cigarette, Willis felt his eyes tear up from the discomfort in his lungs. "Eh, F-fuck kid, you shitting me? What, they keep you in a crystal ball up there? Don'cha read the papers? Watch the news? I heard soon as it happened, word travels fast."

"Somebody got out?"

"Harvey Dent, the D.A whose face got burned to shit and then went wacko. Word is he didn't much like yer old man none."

Dick slowly shook his head. "Why do you say that?"

"Damn kid, they do keeps ya' tucked away. Wayne supported him when he ran, and so then when the accident happened, he coughed up the money for some sort of plastic surgery. Dent did it, and while he recovered, his wife up and left him. She said changing his looks didn't make him well, said he was still nutters up there. So Dent undid the looks himself, ya' know? Made himself all ugly again. He thought Wayne was the reason his wife left, so he sent out all these threats. Wayne wasn't on the top of his list, but he got a few letters. The judge who worked the case got offed, as well as Maroni, the guy who did Dent's face in. Rumor was Wayne would be next, but they caught him."

"He wanted to kill him?" This was a little unnerving. If this guy was back on the streets, then that meant Bruce might be in trouble. What if the guy snuck into Wayne Manor and just killed everyone? Alfred, Bruce, and Tim? Where would that leave Dick? The fear must have been apparent.

"Don't worry, Wayne has enough security. Don't think he'll be bothered. Dent's got bigger fish. His wife was killed awhile back, he's out for blood. But first, he needs money, so he's working on little fish deals till he can get the cash he needs." Willis blew smoke up at the ceiling. "I don't want to deal with this sort of crazy, 'cause if he wants, he'll just kill me. Especially if I go up asking 'bout information on Jason. He might not believe that I'm his old man, might think Wayne sent me, might just kill me to kill me. Fuck knows."

"…So what does that mean for us?"

"That means I got a lot to think about, same as you."

From across the room, the cat started a growl, deep in the back of its throat, looking at the two, warning them to keep their distance. Then, not allowing anymore wasted time, it jumped up onto the sink and start digging through the dishes.

"Fucking cat." Yet Willis did nothing about it, just watched it with the same sort of look.

Dick was silent, not sure how to respond. He supposed he should be thinking about if he wanted to continue with this, but he already knew he did. Jason needed his help. This wasn't the time to be scarred. "What is there to think about? I'll talk to him."

"He'll kill you, probably video tape the whole fucking thing and send it with a bow to Wayne. No way you'll get anything done."

"Who says he'll know who I am?"

"He'll figure it out. I'm Jason's old man. I got a better chance of getting in and out alive. All he has to do is believe that I'm who I say I am. My hope is he'll take the money and give me the information I want, no strings and no blood." He did some pitiful catholic cross, and then snapped his fingers, pointing to the teenager. "Trouble is I don't got money, which brings us back to you."

Yeah, this was where things were going to get sticky. Dick nodded, unable to question Willis's loyalty. If the man said he would risk death to get the information, well, then Dick could assume that he was being honest. "How much are we talking about?"

"Fifteen thousand."

"Fifteen thousand? And what's going to make him believe that _you_ actually have that kind of money?" Now this was a valid point, Dick slouched in his chair, crossing his arms. "If he's so knowledgeable, won't he realize that it's not your money?"

"Kid, I do stuff on the side for money that ain't exactly legal. Trouble is that I just got started again, so I'm still poor. Dent'll see me as a drug dealer. It ain't that odd."

"Fifteen thousand is an awful lot."

Willis smiled, nodding. "Can't get to Dent with nickels and dimes, kid. Some of that is going to go towards finding him. f'Sides, doing this means I'll take whatever is left."

Now Dick felt it was fair to protest. "So you're in this for you."

"No, I wouldn't touch this if Jason weren't my kid. I told you, I could wind up dead."

"Then why ask for money? You said it's 'cause he's your kid."

"'Cause doing this is gonna take time, and how am I supposed to live off of nothing? I ain't eating rats like the goddamn cat, and I ain't eating the cat neither." Willis gave a half grin. "I think it's starting to like me anyhow. Ain't that right kitty-fucking-kitty?"

From the sink, the cat arched it's back and started with the deep throated growl.

"How much do you plan to keep?"

"One of the fifteen, which ain't hardly nothing, all things considered. I'm cutting you a deal here."

Dick rolled his eyes. "Thanks, good to know you're doing things for all the right reasons." Nevertheless, he couldn't find much to say. This was his chance to save his brother, and he wasn't going to let it just pass by. If he did he'd regret it the rest of his life, it would hang over his head till the day he died. What if this would mean getting Jason back? Fifteen grand was nothing compared to that. "Alright. I'll get the money, I don't know how or when, but I'll get it. You just need to keep your phone in service."

Willis nodded, putting out his cigarette. "Don't worry. Just make sure Wayne don't figure things out, I don't want some pigs knocking on my door."

"The police won't bother you." Dick was starting to dislike this man more and more. He forced a smile, trying to be friendly. "I'll be in touch, and thanks again – I just hope it works."

"You and me both, I don't want to die."

"Yeah, I don't want you to either."

This earned a surprised look. Willis shook his head, brushing off the shock. "Kid, you don't know me, I wouldn't be saying that. I might be ok now, but I wasn't so great before. Lot of people wish me dead."

"You're helping me find Jason. I don't want you to die. Far as I can see, you're doing good." That was all he could say, Dick nodded a goodbye and then left, shutting the door behind him, thankful the cat didn't try and escape. He headed down the stairs, ignoring the woman in her nightgown staring him down. Once outside, he didn't feel much better. His car was parked a ways away, in some parking lot of a restaurant. It was probably a bad idea to bring it to the Alley, but he'd take his chances. It was then that an idea struck, and he knew how he could come up with all that money without stealing it from Bruce.

He'd sell his car.

* * *

Bruce Wayne pulled into his drive, and in the rearview he watched the huge metal gates slowly closing behind him and wondered how much good they actually did. It was probably more of a fashion statement, a stupid one. He hated having to stop, each time he came home, and enter the pass code. Maybe he could look into some sort of garage door opener type remote. That'd be nice.

As he pulled up to the front, turning towards the huge garage, he frowned at the sight of an unfamiliar car. It was a black caviler, no hubcaps, with a few dents. It was an older model, probably near ten years old. Bruce Wayne honestly couldn't think of anyone he knew would own that kind of car. He just hoped it wasn't a reporter or some girl from his past.

He parked, gathered his things, and made his way to the house. The car was easily forgotten as he went over the numbers from his meeting that day, trying to make sure that he still remembered them – he hadn't bothered to pen them down, so it was up to his memory. Fortunately, his memory was spectacular.

The house was silent. Even when he closed the door behind him he didn't catch any hint of somebody being there. Usually Alfred kept people in the Sitting Room, _strange_. Jacket in the closet, shut the door, walk across the room towards the far hall beside the staircase, enter the study and start to finish up work for the day – Bruce maneuvered about, not minding the absence of Alfred and Timothy, maybe he could finish up without any interruption if he was lucky. Perhaps nobody knew he had come back, and whoever owned the strange car would have to wait. He could just say he hadn't noticed it. Well, if Alfred bought that.

It wasn't until he had his laptop out, turned on and ready to go, that he heard laughter coming from upstairs. It was Dick laughing.

Dick?

Bruce took off his glasses and leaned back in the chair, looking at the ceiling, a little confused. He hadn't seen Dick's car outside. _Oh._ "Don't worry about that now, Wayne." He muttered, going back to his computer. He'd finish work and then worry about why Dick wasn't driving his car.

First things first.

He was able to work for an hour before his cell phone starting to vibrate in his pocket. He ignored it, typing up the last sentence in his email and sending it out. By the time he turned off the power to his computer, the call had ended, which was fine. He pulled out the phone, figuring he'd just call right back.

_Missed Call._

_Dick's Cell._

Bruce still heard the television upstairs, accompanied with the occasional muffled voices of Dick and Timothy. It was the weekend. No doubt they were lounging about up there. They probably didn't know he had come home. So, he hit the send button and waited.

"Hey, you really ought to get home, you know. It's not good to work so late!" Dick was cheery, talking without giving Bruce the chance. "You don't want to be boring, do you? I know you _think_ you're a ladies' man, but no lady wants a man with no life!"

"I've been home for the past hour. I'm in the Study. I'm glad you called though, I'd like you to come down and tell me why you aren't driving _your_ car."

There was silence on the other end.

"Just come down. Thanks." And Bruce hung up. He ran his fingers through his hair, cracked his neck, loosened his tie, and unbuttoned the first few buttons of his dress shirt. He wanted to shower and get into some comfortable clothing, but he'd have to wait. He heard Dick and Tim talking, whispering. Apparently Dick was checking on what Tim thought. _That's fine_. Pulling out his cell phone, he redialed and started talking as soon as the click was heard. "Actually, I'm going to shower. You and I can talk in half an hour. That'll give you time to run your story by Timothy _and_ Alfred if you'd like."

"…I was coming."

"I can hear you both talking up there, but no matter, I'll see you in half an hour in the Study."

"I-." Dick didn't bother saying anymore, knowing Bruce had hung up. He looked up at Tim and saw the curiosity. "He said to meet him in half an hour." A smile. "Said it'd give me time to talk over my story with you and Al. Shower."

Tim smiled right back, amused at that. "You're just going to tell him the truth, right? Same as you told me. What's there to be mad about?"

"I don't know. He's always so strict about my car. I mean, I did go through a really sketchy guy when I sold it, but it was the only way I could. The thing was under Bruce's name, not mine."

"Well, on that you might get chewed out on, but that's all. You got a fair amount for it, and the money cleared."

Dick nodded. He had lied to Tim and to Alfred, now he was going to have to pull off the act in front of Bruce. _Shit_. He was no good at lying, especially to Bruce. The guy just made him feel so transparent, like he already knew the real story and was just waiting for Dick to lie to his face. The two boys turned their attention back to the television, watching it till Tim nudged his older brother.

"I think you should probably get going, Dick." A sympathetic smile. "It'll be fine, trust me. Don't know why you're being a pussy about it."

"M'not."

"What's Dad going to do? The worst is he'll yell some and ground you, that's nothing. Just go and get it over with. He's trying to make it worse by giving you a time and place to meet him. If I were you, I'd go down there with some sort of food and act chill."

Fair point, the Romanian looked around the room and saw the bag of chips he had brought up. Grabbing it, he set off for the door, offering his classic smile and thumbs up. "Make sure you tell me how the show ends."

Tim chuckled.

Dick made sure to hurry to the Study, slipping in before Bruce even got there. He took a seat at the desk, figuring that was a good way to seem 'chill'. He started eating his chips as he powered up the laptop sitting in front of him. Once on, he began searching the internet, pulling up Billboard, looking at the current top musical artist.

"Making yourself comfortable?" Bruce shut the door behind him and pulled the towel off of his shoulders, dropping it onto the chair beside the door.

"Just messing around, didn't want to be late for our _special_ meeting. …How was your shower? Warm water?" That's good, play up the innocence, and play up the charismatic college student routine. He stuck another chip in his mouth. "You want to sit here?"

"It's ok, I'll stand. You may sit."

"Oh. Ok." The teenager watched his guardian come to the desk and stand on the opposing side. There was a hush then, and it was hard for Dick to remember all the details he had created, his story was starting to fade away. _'How the fuck am I going to pull this off?_'

"So," Bruce began, ever so slowly, as if he were unsure. He gave a moment of silence yet again. "Are you going to start, or should I?"

"Oh, yeah, you want to know about the – uh – the car?"

"Yes, and from the way you're acting I'm starting to get a bad vibe that I was correct in my assumption."

_Assumption_? Well, now there was some confusion. Dick couldn't keep eye contact any longer. He glanced at the window, wondering if he was being too nervous. He knew he was. Bruce even confirmed it by clearing his throat, forcing the Romanian gypsy to look back. "I, uh, you know how it is sometimes, you just start to, well, start to think about this and that. I got thinking 'cause, well, a friend was talking 'bout how he was taking out loans. I know I don't have to do that, but you know… money is important, right?"

"Money." It was a statement. "What did you do? The _truth_."

"You're making me all nervous, like I did something wrong!"

"I never said anything. The way you're reacting to a simple question _does_ make me wonder."

Dick slouched in the computer chair, and pushed his feet to the desk. He rolled back a few inches and allowed the chair to swivel a little. "I just…" He was facing the wall now, no longer looking at his guardian. "I sold it."

That wasn't what Bruce had expected to hear. Initially he had figured that the car had broken down and Dick was using a friend's. Then the more he thought about it he realized that Dick never called home to say anything about it, so that meant he probably _caused _some sort of damage to it. Never would the billionaire have guessed something like this. Sold the car? How? Dick wasn't on any of the papers.

"I got a _great_ deal on it. The guy was real cool about it, you know? I bought the caviler out there as a replacement, and put the rest of the money in my savings. The new car isn't _that_ bad either, a lot less maintenance too. Nowhere _near_ my car, but … but I was thinking about the future and shit." Dick prayed to God that Bruce would believe him. Even if he got pissed, that was fine – just don't do any digging. _Please_.

"You sold the mustang?"

"…yeah."

"How?"

"What do you mean? I just brought it in and sold it."

"See, now I know you're bending the truth. I'm going to give you one good chance to tell the truth. _Now_. And face me, Richard. I don't like talking to your back."

He was serious. Dick pushed off the wall and turned to face Bruce.

"And _stop _putting your feet on the furniture. Look what you did to the wall."

A glance back and Dick saw he had left a nice grey smudge on the perfectly white wall. That was nice, just what he wanted to do – more reasons to make things worse. "I'll clean it." He started to get up, but a look from Bruce sent him right back to the chair. "Why can't that be the truth?"

"So you're telling me that's the truth? You're not taking the chance I gave you?"

'_That's pretty much a threat_.' The Romanian brought his head a little higher. Confidence had made it easy enough to tell Alfred and Tim, maybe it would work on Bruce as well. "Yeah."

"Fine. First, your name isn't on the papers for that car. So you wouldn't be able to sell it to any honest business practice. Second, you know you have enough money and don't have to worry about things like that. Thirdly, and most the crucial fact against your case is…" He paused, as if charging up for this final point. "You love cars, always have – just last month you were dropping hints about a new one. If I recall, you mentioned that yours was an older model, and out-of-date. You've been showing me prices on all the newer models, and bullshitting me on how your new car would benefit everyone."

Just like that, the story was torn apart and rearranged for what it really was – a lie. He should have given it more thought before coming home and trying to pull this off. That was for sure. Under all this pressure, it was hard to think of any sort of cover up story. There wasn't much Dick Grayson could do other than just sit in the computer chair and stare at the top of the desk. In short, he was out of ideas.

"You want to try again _now_?"

The teenager shook his head, which hung in embarrassment, trying to hide the red in his face.

"I want the truth. I want my car back. Where is **my** car, Richard?"

"I sold it. That was the truth."

"Well, then you tell me to who, so we can go confirm this story of yours."

"You, um, you were right about not being able to sell it. That part. I had to look around, find somebody who'd buy it without the papers." _Man_. He had gone to Willis for help on that part, and they had brought it to some jerk in the Alley. The guy apparently bought stolen cars and was able to fix them up and sell them without any questions. "In – in a bad part of town."

That meant the Alley. Bruce rubbed the back of his neck, trying to calm down a little. He didn't like hearing this, not one bit. Harvey Dent was out, probably hiding in the Alley, and Dick had gone down there. After all the bad that had happened in that part of the city, the kid still had the guts to go down there. "The Alley." He wasn't trying to get verification. "_Damnit_ Dick! You _know_ better than to go down there. What the _hell_ were you thinking? Why did you sell the car? _**Why**_**?**"

Now Dick was _really_ nervous. Bruce never really yelled. He would lecture, and he'd be gruff – but yelling was never really his style. It was more of the deadly tone, and that was enough. Yelling? It was unsettling. "I told you." He whispered.

"No the _fuck_ you _didn't_."

Cussing too, serious cursing, oh shit. He was rubbing his left arm, an act of self comfort, but it wasn't enough. He was starting to shake, and he couldn't stop it. It wasn't like Bruce was going to kill him, but still … fight-or-flight. Running sounded logical.

"Richard John Grayson."

And the full name? Tim was probably upstairs, he'd of heard the yelling at this point. "I … I can't tell you."

"You _will_ tell me. It's my car. What you did was illegal."

"I swore I wouldn't tell. I gave my word."

"You don't get to give 'your word' in situations like this."

"What if I get the car back?"

"_I _will get _my_ car back." Bruce growled. "And _you _will tell me the truth. Why did you sell it? Why did you need that kind of money? Drugs?"

"NO!" That wasn't the deal at all. Dick looked his guardian in the eyes now. It was easy for this moment. "I don't do drugs! I swear I'm clean."

Bruce believed him. "Then why?" When he was greeted with silence, he made the decision to just take things into his own hands. This was a bad situation, probably a dangerous one as well. He reached in his pocket and pulled out his car keys. "If you won't tell me then we're going to get the car back, right now."

And he meant it.

* * *

"You don't know what I'm talking about?"

They had driven all the way to the Alley in utter silence. It wasn't till they entered the crime-ridden section of the city that Bruce demanded directions. He was able to find the spot with relative ease, and made a few calls, asked for a few favors from Gordon. Two police cruisers had met Bruce a few blocks away and escorted him to the scrap yard, leaving Dick in the car. They found the owner inside, on the phone. And when Bruce asked for answers, he was greeted with ignorance.

"That's what I said. You can't just come in here without a fucking warrant. It's bullshit! It's against my rights!" His name was Greg Murphy, and he was good at what he did. He never should have bought the car from the kid, didn't realize who he was messing with.

"They aren't here to search you, they're here for _protection_. I don't care about what sort of illegal things you're doing, I just want to know where my car is. You give me the information I want, and I won't press any charges." That was true, he'd just let Gordon keep a very close eye on this place. Bruce pulled out his checkbook. "I'll even pay for the information, how's that sound?"

Greg snorted and folded his arms across his chest. It sounded like a pretty good deal, too good to be true. He looked around his small office, wondering why his guys were just ignoring this intrusion. They probably were hiding, too afraid to do shit. "I bought the fucking car from the kid, yeah. I didn't know it was yours."

"Clearly. Did he come alone?"

Fuck Willis Todd for bringing down this kind of heat on him. Greg was more than eager to rat out his 'friend'. He never should have trusted that piece of shit. "Willis Todd was with him. He's a bad dude, just got out a few months back, the piece of shit. I'll give you his fucking address too if you just get lost."

Bruce was that much closer to getting the true story, but he was far from content. That was one name he never, _never_ wanted to hear again in his life. "Keep the car." The billionaire turned around and walked through the door, nodding at the men with him. They left the place in peace, and Bruce was quick to say thanks for the escort. He handed a check to Hills, all business. "Consider this a donation for G.C.P.D. Tell Gordon thanks."

"No problem, Mr. Wayne. You don't want to press any charges?" Hills motioned for the others to head out. Only his partner stayed at his side.

"Tell Gordon what he's doing. As for me, I don't want to press charges, no. He gave me what I wanted."

"What do you plan to do?"

This earned a pleasant smile, accompanied with a chuckle. "My kid's in college. He lied to me and sold my car. I just wanted to get to the bottom of it. If I press charges it'll go on his record. I don't like being lied to, and wanted him to know he can't lie to me. So, I plan to make him move back home. I have no intentions of taking this any further." Now Bruce was the one lying.

"Might want to get him tested. You know how college is, kid selling a car like that for money? It can't be good, Mister Wayne."

"If it's drugs, I'll be sure to turn him in myself."

They said their goodbyes once more and headed in separate directions. Bruce slammed his car door shut a little harder than necessary. As he buckled up he made sure to keep as quiet as Dick was. The kid was nervous. _Good_. Let him sweat. They would just sit here until the teenager decided to say something. It took all of two minutes.

"What did he say?"

"What do you think he said?" Bruce still had some shimmer of hope that Dick would just tell him the truth. That he would stop lying and hiding things. "…Everything."

"I did it for Jays." Dick clutched the long arm of his seatbelt. "I didn't do it for anyone but him."

"Richard." Now the billionaire was talking in a very low, calm voice. He was so confused. "Why would you make contact with that man? Why - after all the abuse he inflicted on Jason, why would you think it wise to find him?"

"I didn't _find_ him. It was a huge coincidence. He was a guest speaker in one of my classes, sort of giving us speech on his life. I realized who he was and we got talking. At first I didn't want anything to do with him, but then … well, but then I realized that he's got connections that the police could never have. He might have been horrible to Jays, but he's still his dad. The way he talked made me believe that he would help." Dick forced his head up, looking Bruce in the eyes. "And he said he would. We've been meeting for a few weeks, on and off. He said he needed cash to bribe people to talk."

Bruce just shook his head throughout the whole explanation. "You believed him? He'll take the money and run, Richard. He's a low life who did unimaginable things to Jason! There are things _we_ never told you because they're just _too bad_. I've had nightmares about the things he's done, and when I heard he got out of jail I made _sure_ the restraining order was still up. He could have hurt you."

"He's not like that, dad. I've talked to him. He said that Harvey Dent's escaped, and that if he can get to the guy, then he can get him to talk. Said that he'll have talked with Jack Naiper_**. **_Said we'll get the truth. Don't you want that – to find Jays? Dead or alive, he deserves it."

"Jason wouldn't want you going to that kind of person for help. He'd have called you an idiot. Willis will take your money and leave. He's not going to risk his pathetic neck for you or for Jason. He knows Harvey's not somebody you want to find. If he's so in touch with these lowlifes, he'll know it'll be his neck."

Dick didn't like hearing that, and he didn't want to believe it. He stood firm in his belief. The plan had been good. Willis wasn't lying to him. He'd do it. "I'm still going to try."

"That's where you're wrong. I'm pressing charges against Willis. He knows he's not allowed near you. I'll put him back where he belongs. End of story." Bruce started the car, rolling the story around in his mind. It was hard to believe that Dick was really so ignorant.

"NO! I gave him my word!"

"You gave him _your word_. You gave that asshole your word? Richard, that's about the stupidest fucking thing you've said all night." Forget driving home, they were going to settle this disagreement right now. If Dick didn't believe him, then he'd lay it down thick. "When I adopted Jason I got his medical files and everything. What I saw horrific. Willis fucking rented him out! What's more is that he said they needed the money, so he didn't have a choice."

Shock, disbelief, Dick couldn't swallow – he was forgetting how to breathe. From his head, to his fingertips, all his skin started to crawl, going numb. "No."

"Yes. We have one known account, and it fortunetly wasn't near as bad as it could have been. But God can imagine there were more. Abuse is one thing, but Willis went above and beyond. He sold his own son for dirty money, and he tried to justify it. It's a shock that Jason lived through it. It's a miracle that he was as well behaved as he was. People who go through things like that, they don't just get better. It's with him forever."

"No! He would have told me!"

"He didn't _even_ tell me. And I don't blame him for that. Why would you want to tell somebody something so humiliating?" Bruce asked. "_I_ didn't tell you because you don't need that sort of thing hanging over your head. I thought the physical and emotional abuse he inflicted on Jason would be enough to make him your enemy. I thought you'd respect your brother enough to not _ever_ try and approach that man. I guess I was wrong. It's _fucking_ unbelievable."

That hurt. Dick didn't like having something like that said about him. He loved Jason. He'd kill for Jason. "I just wanted him _back_. I didn't care who would help. I didn't care if it meant me dying. I want him back." It was getting hard to think now. He was tired, drained, mentally drained. "Wh-what if he's still alive and just waiting for us? What if he's hurt, and every day they hurt him? I _need_ to save him."

"Your life for his isn't what he'd want."

"I can't live with this each day." Dick ran the flat of his hand against his brow, over and over. He'd occasionally raise it to tousle his hair, nervous. "And you guys are so nonchalant. '_Oh_, _he's_ _dead_.' But how do you _know_? You _don't!_"

"Nonchalant?"

"…Ok, maybe that was the wrong word." It had been a hateful thing to say, a _hurtful_ thing. Dick Grayson felt the hurt, even if Bruce's face wasn't showing it. "_Fuck_, dad, I'm sorry – I didn't mean it like that. I just … I just can't see how you guys can say he's dead without knowing it for fact. In my gut I just _know_ he's alive."

There was no reply. Bruce started the car, mind between Dick and Jason. He was attempting to justify why Jason hadn't been found, why they buried nothing, and acted like they had. There had been no proof, yet still they pretended.

'_Don't go there, Wayne. Dick is waiting for you to answer him and you're looking pretty pathetic right now. You're right, the kid is wrong, you're right – so stop worrying. Just answer him, tell him to stop talking. Say something mean, just don't let him see you doubt. Don't you fucking let him see you doubt.'_

"Dick." Bruce took a deep breath, beginning the drive back home. He'd figure out what to do from there, but now – he had to take care of present problems. "I don't care what you think. Just shut up."

"…Ok." Dick turned, drawing his body further away from Bruce, looking out the window just to keep distracted. He shouldn't have said something so hateful. He shouldn't have said that Bruce didn't care – he shouldn't of.

But, things were in motion, one way or another – just as they always were.

_To be continued..._


	23. Chapter 23

"I hold it up and show my buddies, like we ain't scared and our boots ain't muddy, but no one laughs, 'cause there ain't nothing funny when a solider cries, and I just wipe my eyes. I fold it up and put it in my shirt, pick up my gun, and get back to work."

John Michael Montgomery

**Chapter Twenty-Three:**

When Willis Todd imagined getting released from prison he never once considered that he would find himself keeping company with the very person who initially put him _in_ there. But, for whatever reason, here he was, looking up at the iron gates that separated Wayne Manor from the rest of society. It was hard not to feel out of place, in his '89 Buick that sounded as bad as it looked. The vehicle vibrated beneath him, huffing away, complaining. A friend had lent it to him for the day, on a bet that Willis would come back with a black eye and the cops trailing behind.

After all, it was almost a joke that he was here. Even if Bruce Wayne had requested he come, it made no difference. Everyone seemed sure that it was a trick, some way for the billionaire to send Willis back behind bars for another decade or so.

"May I help you?" A British accent came from the left, and Willis jerked his head over, expecting to see someone beside him. Rather, all he found was a small speaker by the key code pad. He wondered how long they knew he had been sitting out there, debating on forgetting the whole thing.

"Uh, M'Willis Todd – Mr. Wayne asked me to come." He wondered if he should press a button to talk, if anyone had even heard him. He tried to look around as inconspicuously as possible, to try and see if there was a camera somewhere. His attention was pulled back to the speaker as a static click signaled someone preparing to talk again.

"Just drive on through, sir."

The huge gates gave a shudder, and then slowly began to pull back, opening up to the manor grounds. Willis pushed the car into drive, and to his disappointment the Buick gave a huge gulp, and then died. It took a few seconds of the car stalling, and some choice words, before he was able to chug on through the entrance. So much for his pride, Willis just hoped nobody had seen that, but something in that back of his mind said that they were watching everything.

At first he didn't know where to park, the lane was a fourth mile long, and he could see the problem arising. There was a garage to his right, and the house to his left. Should he just pull into the grass? _Probably not the best idea_, he told himself. He remembered seeing a movie once, and the limos always pulled in front of the house – but, he wasn't exactly a limo. "Fuck it." He turned towards the house, parking a few feet away from the stairs, figuring he wasn't blocking anyone from getting in or out.

"Hey'a Willis." Dick Grayson was coming down the marble stairs, appearing from nowhere, a smile in tow. "Glad you came. I didn't think you would, but Dad kept saying you'd back out. Me though? I figured that you had already come this far." He paused, watching the man get out of the Buick. "Nice car, borrow it from your friend again?"

Willis gave a nod, his hands deep in his pocket as he climbed towards the teenager. "Wayne waiting inside?"

"Yeah, he's talking with some guys in his office, so he might be a few. They came last minute, sort of insisted on talking to him. I don't know. He gets that a lot." Dick waited till the man was beside him before motioning to be followed. They continued towards the door. "You haven't met Tim before, have you? He's my little brother. I think he'll be around. Sometimes he hides in his room, like he's shy. He's not that shy."

The kid kept rambling about nothing, and Willis did his best to seem tough. He didn't want anyone assuming he was afraid. Dick opened the front door and held it, smiling up.

"After you."

"Why are you wet?" There wasn't any rain, and it didn't seem like the time of day to be taking a shower. Willis was pretty certain he hadn't seen a pool around, and the ocean was miles away. Yet the teenager clearly had just been in some water. His hair was matted to his head, and his T-shirt was clinging to his body. Water dripped down from his shorts, making a puddle on the marble landing.

"Swimming. We have a pool inside. Alfred told me you were here, so I got out real fast. I should have grabbed a towel. If Al sees I'm soaking wet he'll have a cow." The two entered the home, and it was a bit overwhelming. Everything looked, felt, and smelled expensive. It was hard to believe that the whole house was like this. How could someone had _this_ much money, especially when there were people starving on the streets? It was hard not to feel a little resentment towards the lifestyle and those living it.

"Indoor pool?"

"Indoor." Dick chimed, not thinking anything of it. He led Willis through some room that looked stuffy and awkward, and into another, that seemed a little more comfortable. There was a television, with a gaming system or two hooked up. It sat against the wall, resting in the center of a huge bookcase sort of thing, cabinets and shelves lined it, filled with every game imaginable. The rental stores Willis had been in probably had less than this room. "You can sit down!" Dick offered, and planted himself in front of the TV, opening up one of the cabinets and searching for a game.

Willis sat on a nearby couch, leaning forward to look at the collection. "Are all these yours?"

"Not just mine." The reply was somewhat muffled because the teenager was leaning into the cabinet. "Jays and I played a lot, so lots of these are his."

"Oh."

Dick was backing out, a game case in hand. He gave yet another smile as he shut the small wooden door. "We did have 'em all in our room, but after a few years we had so many Alfred said we could keep them down here. Nobody ever used this room, so it was ok. Though, if anyone visits Al locks it up like he's ashamed they'll see it and think poorly of us."

Willis didn't understand what that meant. "Cause you have so many?"

"Huh? No, 'cause it's not really, um, not classy? I think he's just living in the past though, 'cause lots of kids have gaming systems and stuff."

There was a noise at the door, and the two turned to see a younger boy peering in. He just was lingering there, as if debating to come in or not. It was clear he didn't know what to think of Willis, he hardly would look at the man, and when he did it was only for a second.

"That's Tim, I told you about him already. Timmy, meet Willis."

Willis waited to be told hello. There was no way he was going to go out of his way to be nice until this kid did. After all, he was in strange territory.

"I thought he was coming to talk to Dad." Tim stated, apparently ignoring the new figure. He offered no smile, no hello, nothing. It was clear he had just made his way out the pool as well, probably having been swimming with his brother.

Dick still sat on the floor, unhooking one gaming system so he could plug in another. "Luscious came with a Russian guy. They said it was _imperative_."

"Oh."

Willis decided not to like this kid. He reminded him too much of Wayne, sort of arrogant. It was a wonder that Dick was so personable. Hopefully Jays had turned out better than that. "If it's a bad time I'll just go." He finally said, deciding this was a waste of time. If Wayne was willing to make him wait, then Wayne himself should be willing to wait and reschedule. He stood up to leave and as soon as he did, Dick was flying to his feet, panic on his face. "_What_?" Willis snapped, confused at the look. Hearing his tone had been a bit harsh, he tried again. "What?"

"You just got here."

"Yeah, and Wayne asked me to come. I came, on time. He clearly ain't ready for me. So I'll just get going."

Tim muttered something like: _Figures_.

"You got a problem with me, kid?" Willis turned to the twelve year old, not caring about the age difference.

"Stop it, Tim!" Dick motioned for Willis to sit back down, but it was nothing doing. He could see that the thirty-seven year old man was about ready to panic, and that wouldn't get them anywhere. Bruce would probably have the man tossed into jail, charging him with assault on a minor. "Tim!" Dick repeated. "He came here to help us find Jays. He's trying to help."

Tim was a lot like Bruce, hardheaded and logical. He saw Willis Todd as a threat and as a lowlife who would gladly take advantage of a situation like this. Who knew what the ex-con had already slipped into his pockets. As much as Tim wanted to speak his mind, he held his tongue. Unlike Bruce, and unlike Willis, he didn't have the guts. It was clear that Willis wasn't afraid to make Tim eat his words. So, he forced himself to look away, the thirteen year old shrugged. "I'll go see if Dad's done yet." He turned, walking away without another word.

"Sorry." Dick said quickly. "He doesn't trust you yet. You can't really blame him."

"Why can't I? I ain't never done nothing to him."

"Jason was his brother." The answer said enough, and Dick was pleased when Willis sat back down. "You can't explode at every little thing. Somebody has to be the adult."

"I was invited to come here, it ain't the other way around. Seems like if I weren't wanted I shouldn't have been asked."

That was true, but still. Dick ran a hand through his hair, ruffling it which made it stick up in odd places. There were a few things he thought about saying, but in the end they all seemed pointless. Willis wasn't going to listen, he saw himself as the victim here, like a fox backed into a corner, ready to attack at the first sign of danger. "You want to play?"

"No thanks."

"Oh come on, this thing is new, bet you've never seen anything like it." Dick showed his hands to Willis for a moment. "No game controller." He then pointed towards the television. "You see that black thing on top of the Xbox360?"

"Xbox…"

"The red gaming system. You've never heard of an Xbox?"

"Why should I hear 'bout it?" The words sounded strong, but it was clear there was some awkwardness peering between the syllables. "You said it's new, and I wouldn't seen nothing like it!"

Once again, for whatever reason, the gypsy boy was laughing, but not in a way that made the man in the rumpled blue jeans feel belittled, or even ashamed. Instead, the sound of Dick's laughter was the sort that made him feel like smiling, and chuckle along, even though he had no idea what they would be laughing about. He shook his head, not breaking a smile, but his eyes eased up, and his look was softer. "Guess I've been gone fer a day or two."

"Yeah," Dick answered, tossing his head, motioning towards the TV yet again. "Or three. The Xbox is old news, but what I wanted to show you was that this new gaming system, called the Kinect, allows you to play video games without even using a controller. It watches you, recognizes your movements, and BAM! You're the controller." Dick walked over to the television and turned it on, then turned on a red gaming system, changed a few cables, and then walked back over to Willis. "It's loading now, but watch." He waved at the TV.

Willis watched how technology had changed, and was a bit wistful, wishing they had this kind of thing when he was a kid. Hell, he never even had a GameBoy when he was little, no money for that kind of thing.

"Wanna try?"

"Eh, probably'd do it wrong."

"Nah, come on, it's easy."

"Don't think it's a good idea."

Dick grabbed the man's arm and pulled him towards the television, then backed away. Just try it out. Willis felt awkward, and huge, like he was taking up too much space. Though, his curiosity ran strong, and he only idled a moment before trying the game. A minute later he had it figured out, to which Dick said was: _impressive. _

"Yeah, I ain't stupid."

"Well, duh."

Willis glanced over at Dick, and suddenly felt ashamed. He gave a shrug and backed away. "Thanks for letting me try."

"Told you it was cool."

The kid was too nice. It made Willis feel, for one of the first times in a _long_ while, disappointed in the person he was, and all the hurt he had caused this family. "You're the one I hit on, the day I was drunk, when they took me away."

Dick just laughed that off too, like it was no big deal.

They ended up only waiting ten minutes before Bruce found his way to the gaming room. Neither Tim nor Alfred accompanied him. Neither Willis nor Dick said anything as the billionaire leaned on the door frame, arms crossed, clearly straining to look personable. "Sorry to keep you waiting, I'm afraid Mr. Korskoff was very … insistent on seeing me."

A silent gap fell then, and Dick still had his game on, bombs and rapid fire sounding in the background. He had forgotten to continue playing and was killed straight away by a grenade. Still, he gave it no mind, looking between the two adults.

"S'ok." Willis finally said, straining just as much as the billionaire. Apparently that was good enough for Bruce, because he took a step into the room, glancing at the teenager on the floor, soaking wet. He thought about saying something, but held it back, figuring now wasn't the time. "You want to turn that off, Richard?"

Dick nodded, looking at the TV screen as he used his controller to power the whole thing down, though not before saving it. He got to his knees and shuffled over, hitting the power button on the TV. It was a little awkward, knowing he was being watched. "Willis got to meet Tim." Dick said.

"So Tim said."

Willis was now looking at Bruce Wayne for the first time in years. Even when he had been thrown in jail he never really remembered what the man looked like. He had been high and drunk when they met, and the whole ordeal was a haze. All he could remember was that Wayne had sent him to prison, and adopted Jason. He never had been able to read very well, so he didn't check the papers to keep updates. And television was limited. It was sort of surprising to finally see who this guy was, and how _young_ he looked.

Bruce Wayne couldn't be older than thirty. His facial features were still youthful, no lines or signs of aging. Perhaps it was because he could afford to look young, or maybe it was just luck. Either way, the man before him seemed a lot less daunting now. "You're Bruce Wayne." He said, not really asking. "Not what I expected."

This was taken as an insult right away, and that was because the billionaire was expecting to be insulted. He figured Willis would be looking for any way to get revenge. "You're exactly what I expected." Bruce took another step forward, thinking about the situation and different outcomes. "Though, it seems that you and I aren't seeing eye-to-eye. I asked you here for your help, because, for whatever reason, Richard seems to trust you. If you're here for any other reason, then you need to find the door."

"…Took it the wrong way."

"I know you did." Bruce said, calm as could be, figuring Willis was agreeing that he had come for the wrong reasons.

"No, _you_ took what I said wrong, ah – ferget it. This was a bad idea."

"No it's not!" Dick was once again desperately trying to play peacemaker, keeping both parties happy. He had to make this work, he _had _to. "Willis wasn't trying to be mean, right Willis?"

A little embarrassed to have Dick telling him he was wrong, Bruce opened his mouth to lecture the boy and send him away. He was an adult, as was Willis; they could talk without a teenager babysitting.

"Yer just young is all." Willis said, under his breath, eyes shifting.

"See!" Dick was pleased.

Bruce, on the other hand, still felt a bit insulted. He lifted his chin, wondering what was meant by that statement. Nobody questioned his age, he was leaps and bounds above most his age, and even above people Willis' age. After all, he had graduated high school when he was fifteen, learning from only the best, and then advanced to college straightaway, attending Harvard, Yale, and a slew of tutors. He had graduated with three degrees within three years. People said he was a prodigy, (which was true), but had the money to get him the accelerated classes, and if he had found a class far too easy, he simply requested to take the final early, and would test out of it.

Dick was talking again, making Bruce come out of his bitter thoughts to hear what was being said.

"He's twenty-eight, almost twenty-nine, that's not exactly young."

Now Willis had this smirk on his face, like he was seeing the billionaire in a whole different light. He said nothing, but he really didn't have to.

"Richard said you've been getting information about what happened to Jason." Bruce decided to just get back on task. "As you can imagine, I wasn't happy to hear about you selling his car and taking the money."

"I didn't sell his car and take the money. He sold the car and paid me for my services. Information ain't cheap, 'specially the kind that you want." Willis started to dig in his coat pocket and pulled out a small piece of paper. It was crumpled up and looked dirty. "Nobody really came in contact with Jack Napier seeing as he went straight to the asylum, and people who did know about him before never knew nothing about what he had planned to do. Said he was dangerous. One guy who did work for him, that is still alive, said that nothing the guy said made sense."

"So that's all you've found out? The cops told me that much." Bruce should have known better than to think that this was a possibility.

"Let him talk." Dick said. This earned a glare from his guardian, which silenced him in an instant. He knew better than to correct Bruce.

Willis, on the other hand, was thankful for the kid saying something. It was nice to have some support. "No, that ain't all. I knew that before I even got out of the joint. Just telling ya' how it is. I'm pretty sure yer aware Dent's out, escaped and hiding in the city." He paused, waiting to see how Wayne would react to that. Sadly, there was no response, just an unwavering stone cold stare. "So, rumor is that Dent's cell was close to Jack Napier in Arkham. An old prison guard got transferred to Blackgate two years back, and when he found out I was Jason's father, he told me that he was real sorry for what happened. Apparently the guy didn't know my relationship with the boy."

"Apparently." Bruce echoed.

That was ignored. "He said he requested to be moved to Blackgate 'cause of Jack Napier, said he was one scary shit. Apparently though, Napier only ever seemed to take one person in there seriously, and that was Dent. Though, Dent didn't like him. He demanded to be moved, saying that he was annoyed, and so they moved him. Though, some detectives came in to talk with ol' acid face, 'cause they wanted to know what he and Napier talked about."

"Security cameras are in each cell." Bruce said, matter of fact. "Especially in Napier's. I would know."

"Just 'cause they're crazy don't make them dumb. Fact, seems to me the more crazy they are, the more brains they got." Willis answered. "There are ways around that. And Jack Napier knew better than to get caught. They say that they never catch him saying anything in there. He always manages to make it muffled, and never shows his face when he's talkin'. So, Dent tells 'em that Napier said that when they get out they should work together. Says he did Wayne's kid and that he'll help Dent."

"Why would Dent tell the detectives this?"

"It's what I heard, man."

"You managed to hear a lot. Either way, it's still nothing I don't know. Perhaps told a little differently, but still, I was aware of their relationship in there. I was also told Dent didn't know anything about Jason's case. Everything that goes on in there that involves Harvey or Jack Napier is conveyed to me."

Willis didn't like hearing that. It was clear his information wasn't as wonderful as he had hoped it would be. That was ok though, he still had a few more leads. "Well then, like ya' said; it's hard to believe that Dent would go tell the detectives what they wanted to hear. Especially if it'll help _you_ out."

"Yes."

"So, I know a guy workin' fer Dent now."

"You know a guy?"

"S'what I said. He's a cousin of mine, used to work for that dude in the top hat, the one who thought he was from a story book. Remember him?"

Bruce gave a single nod.

"Trouble is, my cousin don't like me. I slept with his wife a few years back, and he never got over it. But, he stayed with her." Willis was starting to feel powerful. He had information Wayne wanted, he knew more than the billionaire. He had connections that most people didn't. "And she'll talk to me still."

Bruce was getting tired of this now. He just wanted to find out if they had anything of substance. Willis was just taking them on a wild goose chase thus far, and it was getting old. "Did you find anything out about Jason? That's all I'm interested in."

"… Yeah, I found something out. But, you realize I had to pay a lot for it. Sammi talked to Joe, told him I'd pay for information, and he made me pay more than he should have. Said he wouldn't even tell me anything if he weren't Jay's uncle. Which is bullshit, 'cause he never met the kid but once."

"What did you find out?"

"Napier had some girl helping him, she was the reason Dent escaped. Apparently Jack was supposed to get out too, but something went wrong. Now the girl is hanging around Dent, and she ain't scared of him. She's trying to convince him to help get Napier out too, but he ain't interested. Apparently she's worried Napier'll kill her for screwing up _again_. Joe didn't know what she screwed up before, but figures it has to do with Jays."

This was new information. Bruce set his jaw, mind racing. He still doubted Jason was alive, especially if he wasn't with this girl. But still, it might lead them to an answer for what really happened that day. "You know where Joe lives."

"Course."

"So you can show me."

"…Joe'll kill you and me if you show up at his front door."

"He won't know I'm there. I don't care about him either way. I'm interested in finding out where Dent is hiding, and even more in seeing if we can get this girl before he decides to kill her."

To this, Willis shook his head. "He won't kill her. Flipped already, coin said she needed to stay alive."

"But he won't help her break out Napier?"

"No. He didn't like the guy. And I already talked to the girl."

Bruce snapped his head up, eyes wide, looking at Willis, actually pleading silently to hear the rest of that story. This girl could open up so many new doors. She could put the whole issue at peace. She could stop his second guessing, and let him bury Jason's body.

"What'd she say!" Dick demanded, on his feet. "Did she say where Jays was?"

"No. I didn't ask her about that. I ain't stupid. I just tried to talk to her, in case she was planning on getting some people to help her in the future. She's been sitting around, like she don't have a plan, but figures that she'll eventually try and do something. She told me her boyfriend was locked up, and figured that meant Napier. She's sweet on him. She'll try and get him out. She talked like she's been in Gotham for years, so I don't know if she's lying or if she never left."

Bruce found himself taking a seat on a swivel chair he pulled away from the computer on the opposite side of the room. "Can you put me in contact with her?"

"She'll know who you are. And if she doesn't, she'll still figure something's up, you're too rich and clueless to pull off gaining her trust."

"Agree to disagree."

"What's her name?" Dick suddenly asked, cocking his head.

"Harley."

* * *

It was hard to learn that there was a possibility of finding out the truth, and then being forced to sit on your hands and wait. Willis and Bruce were able to agree on one thing: they couldn't rush this. If Harley was their only chance, then they'd have to take it slow, making extra sure that they didn't shot themselves in the foot. It was also agreed that Willis shouldn't make contact with Bruce or Dick, in case somehow somebody saw. If the press heard about it, there was no doubt it would make the papers. Bruce and Willis were enemies. If it was discovered they were talking, it would be juicy gossip. So, the billionaire paid the man to continue his secret investigation, both agreeing only to contact each other if absolutely necessary.

Willis was also given a tracer, to use when he did go out to meet Harley. That way, if anything bad were to happen, they could find him. He seemed pleased with that, it was a nice to know there was some protection, even if it wasn't fool proof.

Two weeks passed before any word came from Willis, at which point Dick was practically clawing at the walls, begging to call the man. It was a short call, and it was from a pay phone. Bruce answered at work, Sarah having said a Johnson was on the phone for him, and it was an emergency.

"Bruce Wayne speaking."

"Hey. I'm in."

"…Willis?"

"Yeah, man! Listen, she said Jason was alive seven months ago. She lost him though, he was taken actually. And she don't know by who."

Bruce couldn't breathe right. _Jason alive_? His heart was pounding.

"You there?"

"Yes." It was hardly a whisper. "He's alive?"

"Was, she don't know now. Said he was taken, which don't make any sense. But don't get yer hopes up. Apparently Napier did a number on the poor kid, and he's half retarded or something. He can't talk, and he can't see out of one eye. She said he was pretty much a zombie, like he only eats, sleeps, and stares at the wall."

Something began to ache inside Bruce, an overwhelming hurt started to spread, a numb feeling grew with it. Jason _had_ been alive, but now he was missing, and he wasn't even fully functioning. Willis didn't seem at all concerned with the information, more nervous about passing it on. "Listen guy, she trusts me a lot, and she's talkin' 'bout me helping her find the kid."

"Where does she think he is?"

"She don't really know, said they were in the states when he was took from her. Said they were staying in some apartment in New York. She pretended to be the kid's mother. The plan was that she'd break ol'Jack Napier out once she got the money, and then they'd use Jason to get you again. They'd ransom him, get your money, and give him back. The plan was to then take the older kid, guess they meant Dick. Apparently they wanted him in the first place, but Jason was easier to get to."

"Why would they want Dick?" Now that didn't make sense.

"They wanted to drive you crazy. 'Parently Napier has a bad thing against you. Says you ruined him and he was going to return the favor."

"…Does she have any idea where Jays might be?"

"Said she thinks it's some rich middle-eastern girl. She said that she got talking to this girl a month before Jays disappeared. The girl had a house in Gotham where she'd occasionally stay. Harley said she never said anything about Jays though, but as soon as he disappeared, so did the girl. She figures that she's in Gotham now, and is trying to find her house."

This sounded crazy. It was much more likely that Jason wandered away, or that some low life broke into the apartment. Why would a rich girl feel the need to kidnap Jason? And how would she find out who he was? "That doesn't seem very practical."

"That's what I said."

"I think it would be better to investigate New York, probably more of a chance finding things out there than Harley's crazy idea."

"Well, there is one thing that might make you change your mind. Harley said that the girl had brought you up in conversation. Harley pretended to not know who you were."

It still wasn't much to go on. Anyone who lived in Gotham knew Bruce Wayne, he was in the news at least once a month, if not more. His face was plastered over the television and magazines and his name was on hundreds of buildings in the city. "Did Harley say her name?"

"Yeah, something weird … Al-Jew? I don't remember right, Tabitha? Talley or Tamara. It was weird."

And just like that Bruce forgot about searching New York. "Not Gotham." He said, not even realizing he was still talking. "We need to go to in the opposite direction."

Silence.

"Her name was Talia. Talia Al-Ghul."

"You do know her."

"I'll call you as soon as I can." And Bruce hung up. He told Sarah he was taking the rest of the day off, tummy ache and that sort of nonsense, and that he would prefer to have all calls wait until tomorrow. She, of course, smiled and told him to feel better. He managed to get home half an hour faster, beating the five o'clock traffic, only to find a cruiser sitting in the lot, looking completely out of place.

Checking his phone, and not bothering to park in the garage this time, Bruce left the car beside the cruiser, and headed up the stairs, wondering what was going on. If it was important, somebody would have called him. Upon entering, he heard Alfred's voice, apologizing about such behavior. Now that was confusing. "What's going on?" The billionaire stepped into view, finding the butler and two policemen in the Sitting Room.

"Mister Wayne." The taller of the two spoke up right away, his expression looked annoyed. "We were just dropping off Timothy Drake. We received a call from Gotham Public Library's security guard saying that he had some kids in custody with destruction of private property."

Alfred made a noise in his throat, one of complete disgust.

"It seems Timothy and two other boys got into a disagreement. Apparently two boys were bothering him, and he decided to make them stop."

This was a waste of time. Timothy wasn't a fighter. It was hard to believe that he would lash out at some kids teasing him. Bruce folded his arms, wishing he could just tell these men to get lost. There were bigger issues at hand. "I'll pay for whatever damage was caused. I apologize, we'll be sure to talk with Timothy."

"I think you're confused, Mr. Wayne – Timothy is being charged for destruction of property. This isn't a small matter." Clearly this officer didn't care about who Wayne was. "His court date is on the papers we gave to Mr. Pennyworth."

"Court date? It sounds like three boys got into a fight. Timothy has never had any troubles in the past, in fact, I'm finding it hard to believe that he even got mixed up in something like this. It seems a bit extreme to demand a thirteen year old boy, who has a clean record, appear in court for a fist fight." Bruce knew better. How many times had Jason gotten into fights? "I understand paying for the damage, and I'm more than willing to -."

"If you want to fight this, Mr. Wayne, then you'll have to go to the proper people to file. Otherwise, we'll see you in two months. Thank you, have a good day." And with that the two showed themselves out, Alfred hurrying behind, as to not be rude.

That was great. Who the hell had a bone to pick with him? Bruce started for the stairs, making his way to Tim's room, and walking on in without knocking. He found the kid lying on his bed, looking like he had just had a really bad day. There was a red blotch on his cheek, a sign of a promised bruise still considering the possibilities of when to arrive. "What happened?"

"…I got into a fight." Tim admitted. He sat up slowly, not looking at his guardian. This was the moment he had been dreading. Bruce was going to hang him out for the crows. "It's not my fault th-."

"I don't have time for this, Timothy. Apparently somebody has _something_ up their ass to give you a court date. I'll deal with it later. You … I don't know, you can just stay up here till Alfred tells you otherwise." He turned to go, leaving the door open as he headed towards his room.

"Where are you going?" Tim had decided to follow, for whatever reason. "Is something wrong? I really didn't mean to get into any trouble. It just sort of happened. They wouldn't stop bothering me and Steph, and then they called her some names and I just sort of flipped out. I didn't mean to cause a problem. And it's not like it wasn't deserved."

Bruce didn't think twice. He turned to look at Tim, wanting to just have some time alone so he could figure things out. This was a minor problem, and he didn't have time for it. "Tim, I'm busy. I can't deal with your issue at the moment, so you're going to have to talk with Alfred."

"Alfred said I was supposed to wait to talk to you."

"Well, tell him I don't have time."

Tim pulled his head back a little, slightly hurt by those words. He should be glad to hear that he wasn't in trouble with Bruce, but … it was more like a slap in the face. "Ok." He would have said more, but Bruce escaped into his bedroom, closing the door behind him, clearly not wanting to be bothered. So, Tim turned around, and started down the stairs. He saw Alfred at the bottom step, eyebrow raised.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Dad told me he didn't have time to deal with it. He said I needed to talk to you."

Alfred gave a curt nod. "Very well, we'll deal with this at the appropriate time then." He watched Tim turn back up the stairs, retreating to his room. Alfred considered going up to talk with Bruce, but decided to wait. Something had to be up for Bruce to ignore this issue. A court date would, without a doubt, make the news. Tim wrecking havoc in the library would be a hot item for the city. It would be hard to sway public opinion if it was formed to make Tim look like the villain.

Bruce came down fifteen minutes later, showered, and lugging a suitcase.

"Master Bruce?"

"I'm going to head out for a few days. I'd like not to be bothered unless it's an emergency."

"And where, pray tell, are you headed?"

"… to see an old friend."

"An old friend?" Alfred counted to ten. "Master Bruce, perhaps if you gave me some information I might better understand your situation."

"It's nothing. I'm going to see Talia Al-Ghul, that's all. Have Timothy and Richard stay home till I get back. I don't want them going out to the city for the next few days. It'd probably be good if you stayed here as well." Bruce checked his wrist watch. "I'll take my car and leave it at the airport."

The sound of the front door opening and closing could be heard, and Alfred took a deep breath. "You are not leaving this house without a fuller explanation. One that is more … thorough."

"Hey guys!" Dick seemed to bounce into the room. He had on his soccer jersey and shoes, ball under his arm, secure. He had just gotten back from playing at Semla Park with some friends. "Saw a cop car leaving, was Barbara here?"

"I am leaving, Alfred, and right away. It's business. If you need to contact me, make sure it's only for important matters." He pulled out his cell, dialing the airport to get a private flight for 4:00. He quickly booked it, ignoring niceties, and hung up without a goodbye.

Dick was looking at him, suspicious. "Why are you leaving?"

"Alfred, call Vicky Vale and ask a favor on Tim's part, and if Gordon knows what's going on and if he can undo this ridiculous charge."

"Of course." Alfred wasn't happy.

"What's going on? What charge? Is Tim ok?" Dick saw Bruce headed for the door and hurried to catch up. "Where are you going?"

Bruce shook his head. "Richard, do what Alfred says. I'll be back shortly."

"Where are you going? You can't just leave without saying where you're going! What if something comes up?" He saw his words were falling on deaf ears, so he ran ahead, planting himself in front of the door.

"Richard. I'm not amused."

"Well, that makes two of us! What about Willis? What if he calls and finds something out? Huh?"

"I've taken care of that. Now you have three seconds to let me through, or else."

"Or else what?" Dick snapped, getting upset. "I'm not a little kid, I'm eighteen. Why can't you tell us what's going on? I could go with you." He didn't even know where the billionaire was going, but it seemed like a good idea that he tagged along. Something told him this concerned Jason.

Refusing to be held up any longer, Bruce easily pushed the boy aside, heading outside without another word. He wished that had been enough to stop the teenager from following, but he was wrong. Dick was right at his heels, mouth going a mile a minute. He was making demands, making suggestions, and even making some threats.

"If you go, that's fine, but don't expect me to stay put! I'll just start my own hunt for information. And you won't be able to stop me. I'll go down to the Alley and start asking around."

"Richard, _grow_ _up_. Get your ass back in the house and listen to Alfred. I'm not dealing with a tantrum." His thoughts were of Jason. Scared, hurt, alone, confused … would he remember what had happened to him? Would he remember who Bruce was? Would he hate him for what had happened? His mind raced, and he knew he had to find Jason, take him back, and make him better. There was no time to explain, every moment was a moment that Jason might disappear again.

"Fuck you!" Dick clearly was nervous as he made the exclamation. He had cursed plenty in his life, but never like that to Bruce. It wasn't something you did unless you wanted to get backhanded and grounded. "Either you tell me what's going on or I'm going to find out myself."

Willis had said Dick had been the initial target, and now he was the current target. If the teenager went wandering Crime Alley, well, it'd be like giving him over to torture. Bruce silently opened the trunk of his cars, placing his suitcase inside and shutting it. He turned around, facing Dick who was waiting for a response. The teenager had a huge grass stain on his cheek, and a cut as well. He smelled like dirt and sweat, and didn't have much of a worry in the world, all things considered. Bruce knew better than to think Dick would be ok wandering the streets. "So that's how it's going to be?"

There was a moment of hesitation, perhaps confusion on Dick's part. He curled his toes inside his Adidas cleats, and wondered what was going to happen next. Either way, it was clear it was his turn to say something. He could feel Bruce glaring at him without even looking. He let the soccer ball fall from his grasp and squared his shoulders. "Well, you don't really leave me much choice."

"And you don't leave me much choice, either." He took a handful of the boy's jersey and started to pull him back towards the manor. It was simple. He'd lock him in gaming room, there were no windows there. Then, he'd tell Alfred to hire some security to watch the kid till he got back, make sure Dick didn't do anything stupid.

"Ohf!" Clearly surprised by being hauled back to the house, Dick about fell, which was fortunate. He slipped out of the jersey and jumped back, ready to run, and feeling like a complete idiot. Here he was, trying to escape Bruce, so he wouldn't be dragged back inside and put in isolation like he was eight. "What's wrong with you?"

"GET INSIDE!" No fooling around anymore. The billionaire went to grab the teen again, but Dick stepped out of the way.

"Master Bruce!" Alfred was now coming out of the house, followed by Tim. "What is going on?"

"_You_ get inside!"

This was the first time that Bruce could remember that Dick had been so defiant. Never before had Dick spoke like this. Never had he been so disobedient. They had always gotten along, trusted each other, why was it this past month was so different? He tossed the shirt back to the eighteen-year-old. "I'm not going to chase you."

"Good, cause I'd run, and you wouldn't catch me." It was almost a snarl.

"Fine. Fine. What do you want? What will make you go back inside and do as you're told? Huh? What's it going to take, Richard?" Bruce started to plan in his head. "You want to know what's going on?"

"I want the truth! It's about Jason isn't it? I know it is, don't deny it! I can see it all over your face."

Here was his chance, and he was going to take it. "Yes. It's about Jason. I think I know where he is." _And no way in hell are you going with_. To his relief, Dick dropped his guard, overwhelmed by what had just been said. He approached Bruce, eyes wide. "He's alive?"

_That's right, just a little closer. Come on. Almost there. _To his disappointment Dick stopped just two feet too far away. So, Bruce continued their conversation, praying he would make it on time to the airport. "I don't know. I'm going to find out. It's a lead."

"I'm coming with." Dick said, sort of dazed, closing the distance needed. He was about ready to tell Bruce to wait a minute and he'd get his stuff, but a sudden movement from the billionaire caught him off guard. "Wha!"

Bruce managed to grab the teenager by the arm. He was met with a struggle, and for a second Dick ducked down and got loose. It was only for a second, because Bruce reached right back, managing to grab a fistful of the gypsy's thick black hair. When Dick tried to struggle he was met with discomfort, and pulled up, being forced to stand.

Alfred and Tim were protesting now, both trying to make this nonsense stop.

Bruce let go once he had a secure grip on Dick's arm, yet again. "Alfred, I want Timothy and Richard to stay home until I return. I don't Richard making any calls, or using his phone, and you'll need to call someone to come make sure he doesn't try and runaway."

"You're hurting him." Tim wasn't happy about any of this.

"If I let him go," he tightened his grip on the arm, trying to force Dick to stop jerking away, "then he'll go and get himself killed."

Tim looked pale, not liking this situation. "Dad, you're going to hurt him."

"Not if he stops struggling. Richard!" Bruce knew he was hurting the kid, but it didn't seem to have any effect. Dick clawed at the hand, pulled and struggled, desperate to get away.

Realizing he was being dragged towards the stairs, the eighteen year old did the only thing he could think of. He bit the hand that held him there. Still, he remained in custody. He could hear Alfred yell at him, and then Alfred was suddenly yelling at Bruce. The reason for that came to pass in half a second. Dick was seeing stars pop in his vision, and his jaw was throbbing. Well, at least they had stopped moving.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Bruce snarled, hand bleeding from where Dick had sunk his teeth. "You're acting crazy!"

Dick was sort of dizzy, looking at the ground underneath him, wondering why his shin guards were still on. He should have taken them off hours ago.

"I _will_ call the police if this doesn't stop." Alfred was serious. It was apparent that things were out of hand. Neither Bruce nor Dick was thinking straight, and the butler knew better than to stand idly by.

"Call the police and we might lose Jason." The billionaire could see Dick was a bit dazed, staring off down at the ground, opening and closing his eyes. He hated himself for what he had just done. There was blood in the corner the teen's mouth, starting to track down his chin, indicators that he had done some damage. "You cannot come with me. None of you can, it's not safe." Bruce looked between Alfred and Tim, trying to justify his actions. He felt Dick moving a little, and the billionaire loosened his grip, carefully, watching as the Romanian kneeled on the lawn, still looking confused.

Tim suddenly turned on his heels, leaving, headed back into the house. He gave no goodbye, rather called back that he would get Leslie.

"Master Bruce, we want Jason back safe and sound just as much as you." Alfred didn't make any motion to help Dick. "But if you plan to do so with such rage, I can assure you that it will not end well. You clearly aren't thinking with your head."

The butler was right, but Bruce didn't know how to admit to that, or how to apologize. "You'll make sure they stay put?"

"I cannot lock them in a room until your return, Master Bruce. If Richard or Timothy has plans of leaving, they will find a way."

"Then what do you suggest I do?" Now the billionaire was getting upset again, his head filled with Jason's voice, pleading to be saved. "How can I leave knowing that Dick will be walking around Crime Alley? I might as well hand him over to Dent or to Harley, both of which would gladly take him and give him the same treatment Jason received. What do you suggest, huh? That I stay here knowing that I can go rescue Jason? Is that what you think would be best?"

Alfred responded with a slight tilt of the head, and his eyes locked directly with Bruce's. It was clear what he thought on the matter, and maybe he was right.

* * *

"You won't regret it! You'll see in no time that it'll be best you brought me along." There was a blotch on Dick's jaw that was already starting to turn a different shade, but if it hurt him, he wasn't showing it. In fact, it seemed he forgot it ever even happened. Though, it had more to do with the excitement that he was going to go with Bruce. The two had drove straight to the airport and boarded the private jet. Dick hadn't even had time to pack, still wearing his soccer uniform, shin-guards and all.

The billionaire paid him no mind, ignoring going to sit down, and made his way to the front, finding the small crew that had assembled on such short notice. As soon as they saw him their conversation died down and polite smiles lined each face.

"Hello, Mr. Wayne!" The stewardess wore her normal attire, pencil skirt, matching vest with her perfect white blouse underneath. "Can I get you anything?" She was a bit miffed that he had come back here. It wasn't like she was slacking in her duties. It was routine that she waited a few minutes before the pilot instructed her to go back. So if anyone was to blame it was Donny.

"No, I'm fine. Your services will not be necessary on this certain flight. Of course, I will pay you for it, nevertheless. I just would hate to have such a beautiful young woman going where we're headed." He gave a winning smile. "I couldn't ask that of you, there's no telling if we'll find the right accommodations."

Dick was standing behind, making a face.

She tried to fight it, but Bruce simply, gently, put a hand behind her back, lifting her hand in his, and led her away, saying more bullshit statements, politely asking her to leave. The pilot and co-pilot looked between each other, eyebrows raised. They wanted to say something, but kept their mouths shut in front of Dick.

"I don't really know what's going on either." Dick offered, disappointed that they seemed to be having an awkward silence. He scratched the back of his head, looking around the front, and then peering into the cockpit. He had been up here a few times before, and he knew both the men flying. They had never had any meaningful conversation before, but they were Wayne pilots.

"Short notice flight?" Donny suddenly asked, motioning towards the soccer gear. "Seems like you just came from a game. My son plays too, you know. He's about your age."

"Yeah? Where does he play?"

"His high school team, Gotham Heights. He's a sophomore, but he's made varsity his freshman year. The coach has high hopes. How about you?"

High school? Bleh. He was in college. Dick forced a shrug. "Semla Park, with some buddies. I'm actually in college, but I never tried out for the team … wasn't allowed." He made sure the last bit was heard, because he was a great soccer player. It wasn't like he hadn't been asked to play professionally. "Wish I could though, I'm team captain at Semla, but … I guess that's not real."

"Sounds real. Maybe I'll have Marshal come out and watch you guys. If you have room, maybe he could get in some practice time as well."

"Yeah, sure! It's be great for him too, 'cause most the guys I play with are on the University team, so he could get some real know how."

"And you're team captain of them? You'd have to be good then, right? Why don't you try out for the team? Seems like a great thing to have on an application. Not to mention the scholarships."

This was a great way to start a flight! Dick knew he was good, his teammates always told him to try out, they even got the coach down at Semla once to watch, and he told Dick to come as well. But … there was one little problem with that plan, and it was a crazy guardian who thought there was nothing more important that an education. Sports took up time. "Eh, school comes first I guess."

Donny and the co-pilot shared a look, both knowing what that meant. The conversation sort of ended there, even though the two adults kept trying to start something back up. They could tell they brushed a sore spot, and maybe felt a bit bad about that. Though, Bruce came back onboard before a discussion of substance started back up.

The billionaire gave a small nod. "Alright then, we're ready to go. Thanks for coming on such short notice, you will, of course be paid well for your troubles."

"Not a problem Mr. Wayne." Don said. "If you two will just sit down and buckle up, we'll go and take off."

Things went smoothly the whole trip. Bruce was working, of course, his PDA and laptop out, along with various files and papers. He even had his phone at hand, so he could make the occasional call. It seemed like he hadn't even bothered to pack clothes, just office equipment. Dick watched him, utterly bored, wishing he would have at least grabbed his iPod. But, it was no matter. He was at least here, going to find more clues that would lead to Jason!

"So did Willis call you and tell you something? Is that why were going?"

Bruce apparently didn't hear what was said, he suddenly started talking into his computer, letting it do the typing for him. He held up a hand, requesting silence. It was some dictation about Lex Luther, and their future plans.

Rather than wait for him to be done, Dick got to his feet and started to walk towards the front of the plane, figuring he could at least talk to Donny and Greg. The two were cool enough. He could hear them chatting, something about the weather and their plans for Memorial Day.

"Sandy was pissed I had to take off, but you know how that goes. Work is work, she should be thankful we have this job. The extra money is going to put Marshall and Tam through college. Though, you try and tell her that when she's mad and you better duck."

"She's a woman She's crazy."

"She's sensitive. She thinks I'm somehow insulting her, like she doesn't work enough."

"Eh, you should hear Bell go on about it too. This time wasn't as bad, 'cause she was going to her sisters, and her sister doesn't much like me. So, it was more of a blessing than the other." Gregg cleared his throat. "Can't live with 'em, can't live without 'em."

Donny was humming now.

"What business do you think Wayne had on such short notice?"

"Dunno, I don't even ask. I learned that long ago. I just come to work and work."

"Yeah. Just seems like it was pretty abrupt, they only had one carry on, and the kid clearly came from a game. He had the bruises and grass stains to prove it." Greg was quite for a minute. "Is that Wayne back there talking?"

"Probably on the phone, Greg. Why?"

Greg suddenly lowered his voice, going from casual conversation and dipping into something utterly opposite. "You like working for him? A lot of times he seems nice, but then other times you can tell he's just acting. You know? Like with Andrea, he wanted her off. He was just being pleasant, but it was clear that wasn't how he really felt. I think if it were up to him, he'd give her the boot. Think they slept together?"

"None of my business. Maybe he just didn't want to be bothered by the stewardess. What's it matter? He's a good guy, but he's also a guy. We all have our days."

Dick backed away, quietly returning to where Bruce sat. He saw the billionaire was looking at him, confused. "Huh?"

"Were you eavesdropping?"

"…" Uh-oh. Dick shook his head, trying to deny it, but then slowly nodded, knowing better. Bruce could smell a lie a mile away. "I was going to go talk, but then they seemed to be having an important conversation."

There wasn't any question of what the two had been talking about. Bruce simply told the teenager to mind his own business, and then returned back to his work. The rest of the flight seemed to drag on after that. Dick fiddled around with the television for a short while, but there wasn't anything worth watching. He poked around, hoping that maybe he left something entertaining from the last time they flew, but even if he had, he knew they probably sent it back to the house. This plane was used to bring clients in, so it was always kept top notch.

"Dad?" Dick took a seat across from the billionaire, wondering if he could get the man to share a conversation. "Where are we going?"

"You already know. To visit a friend." The answer was short, but Bruce made a point to look up and give his head a firm shake and then pointed towards the front, where the pilots were. It was obvious he didn't want to talk about their predicament. "If you're bored then you can always go back home. I can tell you that the rest of the trip is going to be about the same. Especially for you."

After that, Dick decided it best to keep his boredom to himself.

They landed on the other side of the ocean, and Dick still had no idea where it was they were. He could tell this place was isolated, but the smell was nothing like Gotham, the air was nothing like Gotham, and the lack of noise was so unlike the constant hum of the city that it seemed deafening. "Not many people use this airport, do they?" Dick looked back at Bruce as they walked away from the plane, towards a car parked just a few feet away. It had pulled in closer once the plane had safely landed.

"No."

"So, where are we headed now?"

A nod towards the car, but no real answer.

"Yeah, I see that, but then where? I don't even know what country we're in."

"You should."

"Should I?"

"I'm excited to see your grades for this term."

"Oh, come on, like anyone would just know from a dingy old airport."

A huge man stepped out of the car and gave Bruce a solemn nod. He looked familiar, though Dick didn't know why. Maybe the part about visiting an old friend was true.

"Hi." Dick offered, accompanying his greeting with a smile. It did little. The stranger gave no reply, just nodded again. "What's up?"

They all got into the car, Bruce and the driver silent, but both tense. It was clear there was something there – a grudge, a dislike. It really didn't matter, because asking was currently of no use. So, rather than bother, Dick focused his attention on the grass stains on his knees. His cleats were dirty and uncomfortable – in fact, the teenager started to feel as good as he looked. He wanted a shower, he wanted clean clothes, and he wanted to take off his stupid soccer shoes. "So, I'm covered in dirt and sweat, and I didn't bring any clothes … or anything."

"Ubu - do we need to stop, or is there something he can borrow there?"

"It's fine."

Dick was in thought. He knew that name, he _knew_ that name. Ubu. Why did he know that name? "Ok, thanks, sounds good." Whatever. "It's late, huh? Or early now – when was the last time you ate?"

"You could have asked for something on the plane. There was plenty."

Yeah, well, usually he was given food to eat. Usually he wasn't allowed to wander around and go back to where the food was stored. "I didn't say I was hungry." He was starving, but it didn't look like he had an option. They were in the middle of nowhere, and going further into it. There were trees all around, tropical, and the foreign sounds of bugs filled the air. Occasionally there would even be a sort of squeal in the distance. Dick pressed his forehead to the window, feeling tired. His jaw was starting to ache anyhow, which made him curious about what it looked like. He glanced over to see Bruce's hand, and saw the bandage, but just barely. It was too dark to see if it was bad.

"How long till we get there?"

Ubu made a sound, like he was utterly annoyed, and for that Dick felt bad. He muttered an apology, wondering why the guy was so grim. It was worse than when Bruce was in a mood.

"It'll be an hour or so." Bruce's answer came as sort of a defense, his eyes squared on the driver, as if warning him. "Sleep."

There was too much to wonder about, so Dick shut his eyes and took the suggestion. Though, it seemed as soon as he fell asleep he was been told to wake up. An elbow in his arm, it sort of hurt.

"Wake up, we're here."

The car was parked, and Ubu was already slamming his door shut, looking up at a huge house – bigger than the manor, and nowhere near the same design. It was at that moment that Dick knew exactly where they were. "Talia?"

Bruce got out of the car, watching as Ubu walked to the house, leaving the two behind, not bothering to tell them to come along or even to get the hell out of the country. He, as usual, was disgusted by Bruce Wayne's very existence. That was fine, just so long as they were here. "Listen, Dick."

Dick closed the car door, waiting to hear what was going to be said, looking at the house. "What's up?"

"I need you to listen. Look at me for a moment." Bruce waited till their eyes locked and nodded, serious. "Don't ask questions. I want you to do just as I tell you, no complaints or second guessing. You forced yourself to come along despite my best efforts, and it's going to make things more difficult for me."

"I'm here to help."

"I'm asking you to help now. Just promise to do as I say."

"This isn't a dangerous place." At least the Romanian boy didn't think it was – never had it been in the past. Talia had a thing for Bruce, it wasn't like she'd hurt him. "Why are you acting like we're in trouble here?"

"It's a possibility that Talia has Jason." The billionaire began to walk towards the mansion now, deciding if they stood around too long it could mean trouble. "I don't know why she wouldn't have contacted me, or if she's got anything to do with this – I just know that it's a possibility. Her father is an extremist, there's no telling what's going on here. I just want you to stay close and do as you're told, even when you don't want to."

Dick opened his mouth, ready to ask more questions, but suddenly Bruce's whole demeanor changed. He squared his jaw, tensing up and staring at a beautiful woman who had just walked out to greet him. She looked just as she always did, exotic, perfect, and ageless.

"You're late, lover." Her voice had a touch of humor in it. "I expected you long ago. Though it's no matter, you're here now."

"Talia, you have Jason." It wasn't shaped like a question, but it was clear that Bruce was unsure, and was hopeful, damn near willing to beg at this point. "Please. I'm asking for your help."

She found her way down the stairs, hand on the man's chest, knowing what he had come for. Her eyes left his, bringing them to rest on the gypsy boy just a few feet away. "Hello, Richard." She hadn't expected him to come along, but it was really no matter. "I'm sure you're both tired."

"_Talia_. I came for answers, and I want them now."

"Are you in the position to give such orders?" She took back her hand and turned to walk back up the stairs. Her jewelry made the slightest noise, and suddenly the wind picked up, as if the jingle has summoned it. She paused, her fingers against her temple, keeping her hair back. "Though, if you would like to accompany me inside, I can show you to your rooms where you can shower and rest till father returns, at which point we can take our discussion further."

It wasn't what he wanted to hear, but there was hardly much he could do. He had nothing to offer Talia that she didn't already have. He would have to be led around till the opportunity arose, and he had more to bargain with.

_To be continued…_


	24. Chapter 24

**This chapter is far too short...**

**Author's Note (Concerning Dedications): **Ah, another chapter, another day. Thanks so much to those who offer their support. I dedicate this chapter to Elisa Nataly, for making me feel like I should keep writing. You rock girl. Serious thanks. PS: girl talk, you're way hot. I saw your picture. I feel it my duty to inform girls (because god knows guys are too scared to say it, and girls are far too cruel to admit it) when they're 'rockin' it' as my boss says. Thanks for all your kind words. This one's for you (though it's not as good as I would have liked).

I dedicated a picture to Princessdragon earlier, of the three 'bat-boys', but will not show it because it is hers. Not yours! (Haha.) And, as always, I dedicate my kingdom to my son, Trunksblue. I'm proud of you. (Oh-ho-ho. How funny are we?)There are so many more of you out there who I need to thank, and trust me, I will. Be it by picture, chapter, or entire kingdoms (well no, I leave that to my son (not really, actually, just pretend!).), I do love all you do and say for me. (Thanks Dudette, and so many others, I will thank you in further detail as time goes by, I swear it!)

"_Let's watch it burn. Let's watch this city burn the world. My body doused in ash with two empty cans of gas. The only evidence they have is a police sketch of my mask. And it's hard at times to ask if you could save my heart for last. And it's hard to face the facts when the darkness fades to black."_

_Hollywood Undead 'City'_

_**You Do Good, You Find Good**_

The BatThing

**Chapter Twenty Four:**

**_(Present Time)_**

Jason Todd could feel.

He felt the plush goose down comforter on which he sat. He could feel its silk exterior clenched in his fist, oh so tight, as he held it for dear life. He could smell the mint chocolate chip cookies that Alfred had promised, triggering memories from days gone by, memories that circulated in a confusing cloud of remembrance. He could hear Dick laughing a few doors down, the vibrancy echoed between hallow rooms, and empty halls.

Yes. Jason Todd could feel. He felt the emotions that every memory of his past life triggered, and was caught between hatred and love for those familiarities.

Jason Todd could feel.

Jason Todd felt the cooling steel between his lips. He could taste the metal of the CS-9 semi-automatic pistol, and wondered what Bruce would be more upset about; the fact that the gun had been in the house, or the fact that Jason was dead. Yes, Jason Todd could feel, and right now, it was too much.

_**(Three Days Earlier)**_

Tim lay, sprawled across his king sized bed, head propped on his knuckles as he watched the computer screen before him. He was waiting, with a slightly elevated heart beat, for a response from the girl he was sure was meant for him; Stephanie Brown. She seemed so perfect, everything about her seemed perfect. Her long blonde hair, almond shaped eyes, the way she spoke, and the things she would say, even the way her nose scrunched when she would laugh.

How could it be, out of all the other people out there, she found him worthy to speak to? There were so many other guys out there, and yet, she had decided that she liked him? Even if they weren't 'together', even if they were still 'just friends' didn't condemn the chance at a future relationship at a higher level. Rumors were that she was just waiting for him to make the first move. But, he was always so choked up, so uneasy, that it just hadn't happened … not yet.

_So, he really didn't yell? Just left?_

Tim moved his fingers to the keyboard and the clicks from each button meshed together in chorus. _Seemed like it was important. Well, I know it was important. _Tim held his breath in thought. Once again he was broaching the subject he hardly ever spoke about. Stephanie had asked about Jason a time or two, but Tim always dismissed it as fast as he could. All he would offer would be a shrug or 'Rather not talk 'bout that.' He wanted to tell her, confide in her, but that was something that was never easy to open up about.

_More important than you getting charges pressed against you? Ludicrous. He should have at least stayed long enough for you to explain what happened._

_I tried, sorta' got some of it out. He thinks I'm innocent, I guess that's good enough._

_I guess._

There was a light knock from the bedroom door, causing Tim to lift his head. "Yeah, Alf?"

The butler opened the door and took a step inside, noting the cleanliness of the pre-teen's bedroom. It was always immaculate. Tim enjoyed the neatness and order, unlike some of his other housemates. "I took the liberty of preparing your meal for tonight."

"Oh … ok. Well, actually, I'm really not that hungry." The reason for that was hidden under his pillow. A box of Famous Amos cookies, half eaten, delicious and unavoidable – also something that would earn a lecture, no doubt, if discovered. "Just, a lot going on, not really feeling it."

"Very well." His exit was quiet, done with ease, practiced, and it left Tim feeling a little more alone than before. He found himself desperately turning to the computer screen, searching for the comfort of a friend, miles away.

_Steph? You still there?_

_Still here. Tim, there's something I need to tell you._

Tim appreciated that. It made him feel important, like he was more of a man all because Stephanie wanted to confide in him. She made him feel like he was needed, like he could make things better, protect her. He needed that. After all, where he came from, all he was good for was nothing. Just like with Jason … in that instant Tim found himself creating a fist and planting it straight into his mouth.

'_What the hell?'_ Little bursts of lights, and an aching in his jaw told him that he had hurt himself. It was something he hadn't really ever done before, but it made his head clear, made him remember where he was, and to not dwell on things from the past.

_Tim? You still here?_

_Yeah, I'm here. You can tell me anything._

There was no answer at first, but Tim waited. It wasn't till five minutes later that he decided he should probably ask her if she was ok. Perhaps her mother had come and told her to clean her room, or to eat dinner. Though, it wasn't like Stephanie to just leave without saying goodbye or explaining her situation.

_Steph? What's up?_

_God, Tim. I can't. You know how you need to tell somebody something, and are too much of a coward to even do it? I … I know I need to do this. You won't like it. God, fuck, you won't like it. Tim, I'm so sorry. I'm a coward._

Now this, this wasn't the kind of response Timothy Drake had been expecting. He felt the numb start at his head and travel throughout his entire body. She hadn't said anything yet, but he knew better than to assume that it was good.

_Tim. Those boys in the library had good reason to call me the names they did. _

Tim couldn't even bother to type back, just waiting.

_A few months ago I slept with a guy from my school. I don't know why. I was … I thought it made sense. I thought it would be something, like maybe it would make me better. I don't know. Tim, it's was a horrible mistake._

_I get it. _That was all he could type. It was more than clear at this point. Stephanie Brown didn't share the feelings Tim thought they both shared for each other. She saw him only as a friend. She wasn't interested. She wasn't committed to only him. He had defended her honor, and for what?

_Tim. I wish it hadn't happened, but … it did. Tim, I'm pregnant._

There it was. The hidden truth that everyone apparently had known, but Tim Drake had been too blind to hear, or see. Everything in him seemed to cave inward, falling on itself, creating far too much weight. He had nothing to say, no comfort to give. There wasn't much of a point in answering, so, figuring it'd be best for the two of them, Tim powered down his laptop and carefully placed it into its appropriate satchel. Then, without bothering to shower, brush his teeth, or change into his pajamas, he curled up and tried to sleep.

After all, what else was he going to do? Who else would he talk to? Who was going to understand something like this? Besides, talking about it would mean admitting that he had been in love with the girl, and had been cast as the fool.

* * *

"I don't understand what we're doing, just sitting around. Here we are, so close, and you just do whatever she says? If you ask me, our best move would be to make her tell us the truth. She can't _not_ tell us." Dick Grayson was a little ticked off, and who could blame him? He and Bruce Wayne were sitting on their hands, waiting for somebody to tell them the truth. It had been an eternity since Jason Todd had disappeared, and now, when they were so close, when they knew he was alive, they weren't permitted to take the next step.

Not yet at least.

"She can and is."

"That's all you have to say? You won't just even _try_ to talk things over with her?"

Bruce was starting to become defensive. He knew Dick didn't understand, but still. Talia and Ra's weren't exactly people that you just turned into the law. They were far too powerful. The best bet, for everyone, was to wait until Ra's returned. Talia wouldn't dare do anything against her father's wishes, and it seemed he had told her to keep silent concerning Jason. "We'll know soon enough."

"Soon enough isn't good enough."

They had been brought to a large guest suite that had been prepared specifically for them. Currently, Dick was hovering around Bruce's room, pacing back and forth, occasionally pausing at the balcony door, and peering at the sights that surrounded them.

"I think maybe you should return to your own quarters, Dick. Get some sleep."

"Yeah, like I can sleep tonight."

Bruce had his laptop out, and was searching through various items concerning Jason's disappearance. He had kept everything, and logged all his thoughts on the matter. Every move he made, every attempt of the police and detectives to uncover some hidden clue, and all the failures, they were all at his fingertips. "You should try. I'm not company tonight."

"You're never _great_ company, Dad."

Silence.

Dick flopped down beside Bruce with a loud groan, arms crossed across his chest. "What are you doing?"

"Reading."

"What?" Dick poked his head over, making Bruce jerk back a little to get out of the way.

"Richard!"

"What? I was just looking."

This was going to be a long night if Dick didn't go find something useful to do. Bruce motioned towards the chest of drawers near the door. "Why not call Tim, see how things are going over there?"

Dick knew he was being told to go away, even if it was in a thoughtful way. "Fine, fine. Do I have to call home? I really was meaning to call Babs before we left, but never got that chance. I promised her I'd call today, she's probably wondering."

"Whatever." _Just go._

Making his way to the phone, Dick suddenly stalled and turned back to face his guardian. "Hey, Willis can still get a hold of you, right?"

"I've got it covered."

"Yeah, ok."

The hours seemed to drag, and Bruce wasn't all too surprised when Dick lived up to his word about sleeping. The teenager was still poking about, coming and going between rooms, complaining about sitting on his hands when they should be getting things done. Eventually he realized that his words were falling on deaf ears, so took a seat out on the balcony, silently watching the view.

It was near six in the morning when there was a knock. It was unexpected, and Bruce felt a bit disheveled. He stood up and walked over, opening up the door, and finding Talia waiting with a smile. "Good morning Talia. I trust you slept well." He wasn't in the mood for this. He wanted to get answers.

"I came to talk. Though," she moved her eyes towards the teenage boy walking over to the two. "Though, I would like it to be a private audience."

Understandable. Bruce turned to look back at Dick and gave his head a shake. "Stay put, I'll be right back."

"Yeah."

The two adults made their way down the hall in silence, and then came to an open room, sort of like a common area. There was nothing 'private' about her choice of place to speak. Either way, it was of no matter. Bruce watched her take a seat and decided it was time to start talking. "Listen, Talia, what can I do to make this all just … happen. You know what I'm here about. I realize that your father is a very powerful man, so what route do you suggest I take?" His words sounded polite, but there was an icy backdrop he couldn't hide.

"You simply have to wait, beloved."

"That's what you came to tell me. That I simply 'had to wait'?"

"No. I wanted to speak with you about the matter at hand." Her long, dark lashes fluttered for a moment, like she suddenly was feeling light-headed. "You see, my heart broke when I heard what had happen to Jason all those years ago. My father did not permit me to be of any help to you, but I made a point to keep tabs. After all, the detectives of this world, well, they lack the power and prestige to get things done."

Bruce listened, curious, wondering if he was actually getting the truth.

"It wasn't till a short while ago we came across Ms. Quinn. My source told me she had a boy with her, about Jason's age, and I immediately flew down to New York to take the matter into my own hands. I was able to collect Jason with surprising ease. At which point, I returned home to my father."

"Jason is alive?"

There was no answer to the question, rather, the woman continued on with her story. "My father was displeased, but kept the boy as 'leverage'. It was not my intention for such, but … I would not go against him."

"Where is Jason, Talia?"

"I cannot answer that. My father will be here in a few hours, at which point, he will answer those questions."

"You can't answer, or you won't?" Bruce knew he sounded harsh, but what else was he to do? How else did she expect him to act?

"Both." She was telling the truth. "I became rather, attached to Jason after having rescued him. He was in bad shape. He didn't talk, seemed unaware of anything, like a living doll that just sat on a shelf. He could walk, he could eat, but there wasn't anything else. I tried to talk of you, and it seemed that nothing could pull him out. I knew of something I could do, something to help, but my father would not listen. He refused. So, I did something very foolish."

Bruce narrowed his eyes, wanting to believe that he was hearing the truth, but having a hard time not being skeptical. He and Talia had hardly known each other, and left on, what he had considered, bad terms. Why would she go through so much for him?

"I used a …" She paused, as if thinking of what word to use. "Method. Jason's spirit was revived. His scars, his lifeless being, they all rushed away. Though, it came with a price. His memories were still there, and they seemed fresh to him. He went mad with rage. I was scared for my life, and when my father found out what I had done, I became more so. Though, this time I worried for the child as well."

"You're still here." Bruce couldn't help but sound hopeful.

"My father shut the boy away, locked him up."

"_Locked him up?" _It was hard to keep his calm in check. Jason had been through enough, too much to just be 'locked up', or put away. How dare they, how dare _anyone_ do that. "Talia, I'm having trouble understanding your situation here."

"No situation." She seemed to be someplace else as she spoke, and her bright red lips the only thing that seemed to have life. Her eyes were faded, as if gone, far away. "Jason went through a lot. It was a reasonable response, all things considered."

"Where is Jason, Talia?"

She still seemed detached.

"_**Talia**_!"

Suddenly her head snatched up, and she looked at Bruce, dead in his eyes. There was nothing said for a moment, but then, all at once, she seemed to remember who she was, and what she was doing. "Jason isn't being held a captive, beloved. My father, he is a reasonable man. I don't foresee a problem." There was another pause, yet again, and when she spoke, her tone differentiated, as if she was caught between deciding to care and not being able to. "Jason does not remember me, but I played my part. My father called him my pet, the way I looked after him. I know you'll keep him safe."

Bruce wanted to express his thanks, but still found himself drawn away from the woman and her family. She had, after all, held back Jason from him, and then seemed proud of her ability to 'keep him as a pet'. A human child, compared to an animal. There was no telling if he was actually hearing the truth, but … something seemed to say that this was it. This was the truth.

It was just hard to be so naive, so accepting, and forcibly reasonable.

"Talia, if you're telling me the truth, then … I can't thank you enough."

She gave no answer.

* * *

Barbara Gordon's gum popped, making the same annoying sound it had been for the past ten minutes. It seemed like an eternity that she had been waiting for her dad. What could be taking him so long? It wasn't like she had all the time in the world. _Hello_. She was twenty-one, nearing twenty-two, and had more of a social life than her father could even _dream_ about. Come to think of it, if he knew half of the people she kept as close company, he'd probably lock her away for the next decade.

Be that as it may, at least he had seemed to like Geoff, her boyfriend of the past two months. It was hard to find a guy that she felt secure enough in, to bring home for a dinner with her 'pops'. The guy had to be polite, yet brash when necessary. He had to be smart, but willing to 'dumb it down' if the occasion called for such. Not to mention he had to be willing to put his life on the line, if anything went askew. After all, Barbara Gordon was the commissioner's daughter.

She lifted her head, rolling her eyes at the secretary who seemed to pay her no mind. As if they didn't even care. _Please. _Barbara cracked her gum yet again, just to prove a point, and then started to dig through her backpack, searching for her lip gloss.

'_Come on, dad. Everybody waits for you, and you wait for no man.'_ Her irritation was starting to rise, and the way her mind was going, things weren't looking to well for Jim Gordon. Right now, he was under some pretty heavy fire concerning Barbara's conscious. It had been a little less than a month ago that Jim had told her she would never become a detective or a cop, even if it was the last thing he did. She had figured he was just being a bit moody, but as soon as she began to job hunt, she found her father was a lot more respected than she had ever even imagined.

New York, Chicago, Detroit, Dallas, Jersey, Des Monies, even Yorktown Indiana – nobody seemed willing to take on her immaculate education and overwhelming record. They never said her father was the reason, but she knew exactly what the matter was.

Jim Gordon cared too much about his little girl.

She squared her shoulders, for the umpteenth time and found herself looking, yet again, at the secretary, as if hoping to get some explanation to what was taking her father so long. They had come to Arkham Asylum so he could talk to Detective Bullock concerning some misunderstanding. She had wanted to go on back with Jim, but, as always, her father told her it was '_much safer' _to wait out here. No arguments could change his mind. No, Jim Gordon was about as stubborn as a bull dog.

Well, enough was enough. Barbara Gordon had things to do. She had another interview in the morning, and Geoff was supposed to pick her up for a fancy dinner tonight. Standing up, she brushed her hands over her Silver Tuesday designer jeans, and then situated her book-bag. The gut feeling of being watched proved correct when she turned towards the secretary with her charming smile. "Hi! I'm sorry to bother you, but, you see, my dad went back there quite some time ago and, well, I hate to be a bother, but could you tell him I _really_ need to get going."

"Ma'am, I'm going to have to ask you to take your seat. I have a call coming in."

"A call, right now?" Barbara doubted that. It was far more likely that this woman wanted nothing to do with her. "Ok. Sure thing, just let me know when it's ok for me to come back up, ok?"

A nod sent her back to her original spot, to which she returned with a dramatic sigh. She stared down at her pink Chuck Taylors, and thought about how silly they looked. She was far too old to be wearing bright pink shoes.

"I hate to interrupt two, such beautiful women."

Barbara jerked her head up at the strange voice coming from the direction her father had gone. Something inside her went numb, and she didn't even know why, at first. But, upon seeing to whom the voice belonged, she chocked on a scream.

Jack Naiper stood there, huge smile in tow, looking directly at her. He had no obvious weapons, yet it was clear he wasn't in any immediate hurry. "You must be the 'my little girl' Jim Gordon was talking about. Am I right?"

Barbara Gordon couldn't speak, she pushed herself further back into the wall, trying to look at the front desk, to see what the other woman might be doing, but was unable. Everything was focused on the monster approaching her.

"You see, my little girl, when a person talks to you, it's probably best if you consider manners. You never know what sort of nut-case might take offense! Ha!"

All she could manage was a shake of the head.

"Well, that's not right. I know I've been gone for some time, but I daresay not long enough for that to be considered good manners. Am I crazy, or are you just being rude?"

"N-no." Barbara did her best to swallow. She couldn't look him in the eyes, she couldn't stop from shaking. She knew she probably wouldn't live through the next hour, but her wish was that it wouldn't hurt.

"Well, my little girl, I think you are. Do you mind my calling you that? When your father said it, it was with such love that I couldn't help but feel I might love you as well, if I were to meet you. I think I do. I think I love you." Jack looked her up and down. "Well, I love you for who you are inside."

"Wh-where's my dad?"

"Whom are you referring to?"

Barbara couldn't stop shaking. "My dad."

"Are you lost, little girl?"

_Stop it!_ She forced herself to swallow again, and moved her eyes, trying to be brave enough to look, to see, to remember his face. "D-don't hurt m-me."

"You see, now that's just rude. Had there been a 'please' or 'I beg you', I might have considered, but now, well, I suppose now doesn't really matter, because now is soon to be the past. Tell you what," he hunkered down before her, so he could look her right in the eyes. "I won't _kill _you, because, after all, you're much more fun when you're alive. Dead people, they don't laugh. They're a horrid crowd, if you ask me. So, my little girl, I won't _kill _you, and that's a promise."

Barbara Gordon, through it all, was very brave.

_To be continued…_


	25. Chapter 25

"If you don't ever do anything for me, just do this for me brother, and come on home, boy."

'_Homeboy' Eric Church_

_**You Do Good, You Find Good**_

**By: **The BatThing

**Chapter Twenty Five:**

Jason Todd knew what to expect the moment those large tile doors were to open. He had been told two days prior, and thus had some time to prepare for the occasion.

In his months traveling the world with Ra's, he had learned many things. He had heard numerous stories, watched magic displayed before his very eyes, seen the largest of men fall before the smallest. There was no doubt he would go home more learned. So, maybe that was why he dreaded the moment those doors contained.

He wasn't ready, and maybe he'd never be.

There was a part of him that wished he could go back to his 'mindless' state. At least then he wouldn't have to deal with all the troubles that lay ahead, all the awkward fumbling and attempts at conversations. He wouldn't have to look at Bruce Wayne and know that this was the man who he had considered his rock, his savior, his second chance.

In the past, Jason had seen things in a very different light a light that was covered, as not to be waivered, or put out. Bruce had sheltered him, and given him everything he needed to thrive in the World that was the 'wealthy', the 'sane'. The billionaire had plucked up a dirty child, with roots in the darkest corners of Gotham, and replanted him in a fairy tale.

And, just like a transplanted tree, Jason Todd had struggled at first. He almost rejected his new life, unable to see the benefits. But, as always, Bruce had been persistent, refusing to give up. So, in the end, Jason had taken to his new home … more than _taken, _he had accepted his new home and the inhabitants, and he had _loved_ everything about it. So there he stayed, buried by time, and concealed by ignorance.

Yet, just like before, he was dug out of his secure ground, and thrown into a completely different environment. This time, he awoke to find himself floundering, and unable to have enough time to figure out how to swim before being pushed before of these huge tile doors.

He hated the idea of them opening.

Yet, more than that, he hated the idea of finding himself surrounded by the present, when he was still struggling to catch up.

So, when those doors began to give their heavy sigh, and tremble at the process of moving, Jason couldn't help but reflect their behavior. He felt light headed and lost, and the words Ra's had told him just moments ago seemed to fade into the backdrop of time.

_Meaningless words._

* * *

Jim Gordon felt the hand in his dream. It was the touch that woke him, as real as his dream, as real as his nightmare. It didn't take but a second for everything to rush into perspective. He could hear jeering all around him; profanities, laughter, people proclaiming their desire for him to burn in hell.

_Arkham Asylum. _

His blood turned cold at the thought of where he was. The cruelest, most thoughtless of murders were screaming how they would tear his skin and eat him raw, held no bearing whatsoever. He paid those words no mind, because, right now, they didn't matter.

"Where's Barbara?" Gordon turned to see who had touched him for the first time, and saw Harvey Bullock. "Harvey?"

"Ain't lookin' too good Commish, guess we're lucky ta' be alive. Remember that." The manner in which the detective spoke was the same as when they had to deal with telling loved ones that someone close had passed. There was no mistaking the eyes.

"Where is she, _Bullock_?" Jim shoved his old friend away and drew himself up, feeling the throbbing in his head from where Jack Naiper had hit him with the butt of a gun. It could be a serious wound, probably something he should find help for, but right now, it held no significance. The adrenaline that coursed through his veins seared, it made his body numb, and turned his surroundings into a haze.

There was a woman sobbing on the floor, greeting Jim as soon as he found his exit to the next hall. She was missing her heel, and there was blood across her face and on her hands. Gordon didn't offer a word. He made his way onward, swiping his card, climbing onto the elevator, and riding up three stories to the ground level. There, he would normally have to pass security clearance, but nobody was there. In fact, it seemed there was enough noise coming from behind the next door.

Sirens.

Shouting.

A high pitched voice, asking what to do.

When Jim pushed open that door, he didn't dare brace himself for the worst. His mind couldn't have handled that. Rather, he stuck with the determination that he was going to kill and person who stood between him and Barbara's safety.

"Oh!" A gasp came from the officer who had been there when he left Barbara alone. "Jim!"

Jim pushed past her, as if she didn't exist, because just past her, was his little girl.

"Keep him away, he'll interfere!"

All at once strong arms were holding him back, keeping him away from his daughter.

"_Barbara_?"

"Calm down Jim, we're helping her."

_Helping_? Barbara lay in a pool of her own blood, looking about as lifeless as the countless victims Jim dealt with on a daily basis. The only sign of life was that they weren't letting him anywhere near her.

"They're taking her to the hospital, but you need to stay back." One of his own men, Sanchez, was holding him tight, pushing to keep him back. "Napier got away, shot her in the spine, and got away, Jim. Let the doctor's help now."

Jack Napier.

_Jack Napier_, in prison because he killed a child, and escaped to kill another, this time, Jim's.

Bruce Wayne's face flooded into his mind, a scene played out years ago between the two. Jim was saying how sorry he was, and Bruce was telling him '_thank you for coming.'_

'_So,'_ Jim thought, taking a step back, feeling Sanchez relax a bit, _'this is how it feels.'_

* * *

Time seemed to inch by for Timothy Drake. It was hard to find something to occupy his thoughts, because he couldn't stop thinking about Stephanie Brown.

'_I'm an idiot. How could I have been so __**stupid**__not to see?' _He chided himself again and again, as if that might help the situation at all. Naturally, it did no such thing. Rather, it made matters worse. So, deciding that sitting in his bedroom, staring at the wall wasn't going to help, he tried his hand at the Xbox.

He never played so horribly in his life. Usually he was decent, not near as good as Dick, but better than Bruce by a long shot. Now, he spaced out in the middle of fiery shoot-outs, earning him the title of _dead_. So, abandoning the controller, he made his way down the hall, wandering into Bruce's bedroom and flopping down on the overly-sized bed.

The remote lay on nightstand to his left. He grabbed it and began flipping through channels, finally settling on _Piggley Winks._

"Fuck me!" Tim buried his head in the comforter and stifled a childish scream. It was stupid, but he couldn't help it – like there was so much hurt that it had to come out anyway possible. Screaming might not be the preferred method by society, but it did a decent job of making Tim feel less lonely. "What was I thinking? Of course she didn't like me. _Duh_. Just friends, Tim Drake, you moron! Everybody knew it but _you_."

_Ugh!_

Stephanie and he had been friends for a few years now, and while neither had ever said anything about being more than friends, or even hinted at it, Tim had always felt that she liked him the way he liked her, and that they were both too awkward to say anything. Why else would she have gone on all 'outings', or called him when she was bored? Why would she have talked for hours online? Why? _Why?_

"I can't believe how stupid I am." He felt heat rising to his cheeks, embarrassed by the whole ordeal. "Why would she do this to me? Why didn't she just tell me she never liked me?"

"Master Tim?" There was a soft knock on the door, and Alfred let himself in without waiting for an answer, something that the butler _never_ did. "I thought I heard talking. I was worried there were ghosts about." His humor fell on deaf ears.

"Hi Alfred. Just watching some TV." _Please God, don't have let him heard. _

There was a quiet that fell, but it was short lived. Alfred came to sit beside Tim, a kind smile. "Young sir, pardon my saying so but …" he spared a glance at the show playing. "It seems transparently obvious that you are doing anything_ but _watching."

"Well, I _am_."

"I received a phone call, moments ago, from a very concerned young lady. She insisted that I come make sure you are doing alright. It appears that she worries you will, and I quote, 'forever hate' her."

"Steph called?" That was strange. Though, as soon as the words came from Tim's mouth he regretted saying them. He gave far too much away with just that simple question.

"Indeed she did."

"Well … ok." _Lame._ "You can tell her I'm fine."

Alfred gave a look.

"What?"

"Perhaps it would be best if you were to call and tell her yourself, seeing as I hardly know the young woman. I'm certain she would love to hear from you, even for a short while."

Tim slowly sat up, feeling the anger start to whelm up. "Trust me, Alfred, she doesn't want to hear from me. She's _just_ calling to be nice, which is fine, good for her, she's a thoughtful person." _No she's not. _"And, besides, even if she did want me to call, it would just be so she'd feel better, and I don't feel up to helping her out."

They were bitter words, and hung in the air, filling the space between the two. Alfred was now looking thoughtfully at the television, as if finding it of some interest, but Tim knew better than that. Alfred _never_ watched TV, always having considered it a waste of time.

"You know, I recognize this show _very_ well." The butler's voice was softer than before, and he returned his gaze to Tim. "Master Jason would always wake up before school and watch it. Do you remember?"

No, he hadn't really remembered. "I guess."

"This girl, Stephanie, it is clear that you both have feelings for each other, and for whatever reason, you have been hurt."

"She doesn't like me, Alfred, not like that." Tim admitted it sadly, hating the way the truth sounded. "I thought she did, but I guess I was stupid."

"The way the young miss spoke on the telephone certainly sounded like someone who cared. It might not be the same as you feel, but she is hurting for you."

"She's pregnant, Alfred. She slept around, the whole while pretending to like me. I don't care if she wanted to be my friend, because if she was my friend, she would have told me something like that. She wouldn't have done it behind my back. So, the only explanation I can come up with is that she _knew_ how I felt and was selfish, she wanted to keep me around."

This came as a surprise, and the butler couldn't help but show it on his face. A girl so young, already doing something so _adult_? Where were her parents? How could they not know? "Pregnant?"

"Pregnant."

"Master Timothy … you know that intercourse is _not_ something you should-."

"Aw! Alfred, I know. _**Eck**_! Don't worry, and _please_, don't try to talk about it. That's just … weird. Trust me, you don't have to worry." Tim was bright red, feeling about as awkward as humanly possible. The only way it could have been worse were if Bruce had given him that talk. "I'm _only_ twelve."

"And Miss. Stephanie, how old is she?"

"Thirteen, she's in the same grade as me – different school though." Tim was starting to feel better about talking to Alfred. It didn't make things heal, but it certainly helped to clear his head. "Her dad's a crook, and doing time for stolen goods. Her mom's not really around. Not really in the best of conditions either, from what I can tell."

Alfred broached the matter as carefully as he could; unable to stop himself from saying what he _knew_ needed to be said. "Master Timothy, I know you don't like to hear this but … being twelve is no excuse, it doesn't matter _how _old a person is. When you truly love someone, then that is the point where you should even consider the idea of something so important."

"I know, I know…" _God, stop talking about this!_

"I certainly hope you do. Love like that, won't just come to you either, it's an adult decision. Miss Stephanie may have thought she was in love, but in reality, she is nowhere _near_ old enough to comprehend such an emotion."

"Ok."

"I daresay, even Master Richard is far too young-."

"_**Alfred**_!" Enough was enough, Tim had held out for the lecture, but god-forbid they start discussing the intimate relationships that Dick or Bruce may or may not have had. The twelve-year-old caught himself though, upon seeing Alfred's expression. "Listen, don't worry. I'm pretty sure Dick never even ever got close. He's way too hung up on Barbara Gordon to even think about other girls, and we all know that she's not letting him _that _close."

To this, all the butler could offer was a smile. "Yes, and Master Richard has always handled his disappointment very well."

"I know what you're getting at Al, but I've never been a _hopeless_ romantic. Dick also believed that Jason was alive, even after all these years."

"For all we know, young sir, he very well may be."

"Then you're just as bad as he is." He cleared his throat and gave his head a small shake. "I was there, remember?" The subject was painful, and Tim hardly ever brought up this part of his past. It was hard. He had never been able to get past that night.

Even if no one pointed the finger, or blamed him, he was more than hard enough on himself to make up for the lack of accusations. It didn't matter that he had only been nine-years-old, and it didn't matter that he had been scared, and confused. None of that was an excuse, yet everyone seemed to think it was.

Nobody blamed Tim Drake for Jason's death. Well, nobody save Tim.

Alfred could see that the twelve-year-old was upset. There was no doubt that tonight had been hard on the child. "Perhaps, you would like to assist me in making some miraculous mud pudding?"

"You mean dirt pudding, Alfred?" Tim offered a sad smile, knowing he was being babied.

"I acquired some colored gummies, just for such an occasion."

"Yeah?"

"Indeed."

Well, what the hell. It wasn't like talking was making Tim feel any better. He gave his head a nod, and then followed Alfred to the kitchen, trying to make his night just a little bit better.

* * *

Bruce felt his heart stop, literally stop for a split second, when he saw the figure behind the doors. It seemed impossible. It had been so long, and he had given up on many different times till finally he rested on the fact that he was never going to see Jason Todd again.

Thanks God he had been wrong.

To his left, Dick made some sort of noise, between a gasp and a yell. Then, without bothering to wait for anyone to make introductions, or say a simple hello, he took out in a spring, basically tackling his brother, unable to hold back his tears. "_JASON!"_

Jason stumbled back against the unexpected weight. Even though he was bigger than the gypsy boy, he hadn't been prepared for the force, and went crashing to the ground. Instantly he felt embarrassed and angry, but the sound of Dick laughing turned his emotions around on him. He was curious now. "Get offa' me, Dick."

"Yeah." A rough, bristly voice came from above, as Bruce came over to the two. "We just got him back."

Jason stared up at the man, surprised at the billionaire's obvious happiness. He had on a huge smile, but his eyes were filled with water, fighting off transparent tears. They're eyes met for a second only, and Jason quickly jerked his head to look at the ground silent, angry. He could sense Bruce kneeling beside him, and instantly shied away.

"God, you're alive." Bruce took the teenager into a hug, hand going to Jason's head, forcing the boy to comply at least a bit.

It wasn't what Jason wanted, and he tried to pull away. It was uncomfortable, and Bruce was trembling. "Let me go."

His request was granted, though it did nothing to hamper either Dick or Bruce to stop looking, well, in Jason's opinion, _stupid_. What were they doing, crying over him, hugging, laughing, or saying how much they had missed him. How they couldn't believe it.

It was stupid. It was lame. And it wasn't _fair_!

Jason had been missing for years, and where had they been? He had been hurting for years, and who came to save him?

Dick was rambling on and on about how horrible it was, and how everyone thought Jason was dead, and how he was the only one who knew that wasn't the case.

It came out of nowhere, and Jason hadn't meant to say it, not really. He was thinking it, but …"Then why didn't you _do_ anything?"

The surprise was clear in Dick's face, and that instantly turning to hurt and shame. He was turning red, mouth opening, as if to say something, but then closing. Finally, he gave up trying to answer and just hung his head and shut his eyes.

"Jason, we were trying to find you." Bruce spoke in a soft tone, soothing, like it would help. "We tried for years. Dick and Tim both dropped out of school during that time. Our life was consumed with trying to get you back. The detectives we hired kept telling us the same thing, that you probably weren't out there to find. Don't blame Dick for not finding you, if you want to blame anyone, blame me. He said it again and again, and I finally told him to stop saying it. I hated that you could be out there, hurting, waiting, and that I was incapable of finding you-."

"You gave up. I get it." Jason snapped the words, he wasn't looking at anyone, rather straight ahead, still sitting on that floor, between two people who were being _so_ utterly selfish. How dare they act hurt. How dare they turn this into _their_ pain.

"I gave up. You're right. I couldn't stand the pain anymore. It was destroying me. It was destroying Dick and Tim as well. To this day, Tim will hardly speak. He puts all his drive into school and studying. Alfred says it's so he won't have to think about you. I do the same, I admit. Don't be mad at Dick, if anything, he's the reason I get to see you again."

"Dad, he can be mad at me. I don't blame him."

"I'm not mad at anyone." Jason dropped his head, eyes narrowed, anger apparent. "I don't care either way. I don't care." The earned silence, to which just made the teenager more and more upset, and confused, and … "_AH_!" He let out a frustrated yell and started to get up, only to be pulled back by Dick.

"Jays, _please_, don't go. We just got to see you."

"Dick, let him go. If he needs some time to-." Bruce stopped short when Jason turned on his heels, giving the most hateful look in his direction.

"Yeah, let go, Dick, let him go. Don't bother, right, Bruce?"

"Jason, you know I didn't mean it like that."

"Yeah, whatever." Then, just like that, Jason left the room.

"He hates us." Dick looked up at Bruce, caught up in the hateful exchange of words. "I didn't imagine it like this."

Perhaps they should have, perhaps Bruce should have known better. He ached for Jason, and hated himself for never finding the boy, now more than ever before. "He isn't mad at you Dick."

"I didn't find him either, Dad. Don't take all the blame, ok?" It was clear what the billionaire was thinking, and Dick refused to give him that opportunity. "He's just hurt, right, and he might say he doesn't care, but … if he didn't care then he wouldn't be angry."

"Yes."

"What should we do?"

That was the question, wasn't it?

* * *

"Wayne Manor, Alfred Pennyworth speaking." The butler held the phone delicately, ignoring Tim's giggling at him. He was wearing an apron, and had cookie crumbs all over his hands, as well as some chocolate on his face that he didn't know about. Dirt pudding was easy to make, unless you were doing it was a twelve year old boy with no experience in the kitchen. "How may I be of assistance?"

"Alfred, it's me."

"Master Bruce, good to hear from you. I trust you both arrived safely, despite your lack of a phone call to let us know."

"We made it fine, Alfred, sorry. I was actually calling about something important." There was a pause. "You should probably sit down."

It was an unexpected request, and in the instant it was given, Alfred knew exactly why the call had been made. Bruce had been searching for Jason, so, that meant one of two things. Either Jason Todd had been found alive, or his remains had. Covering the mouth piece, the butler gave Tim a warm smile. "Master Tim, would you mind if we finished our … creation, at a later date?"

The boy was quiet and nodded, curious. Alfred was politely asking him to leave, and it was Bruce on the other line … so what was wrong? Something had happened. The urge to ask was forced back, and Tim left the room, closing the door behind him, and then pressing his ear up against it, praying both Bruce and Dick were alright.

Alfred could be heard, his voice was trembling. "_This is about Jason, isn't it_?"

Tim flinched, eyes going wide as he took two steps away, and then realized what he was doing. He forced himself to go back and listen.

"_My god_." A pause, Alfred was listening to what was being said. "_My joy at this news is beyond anything I have felt in years. Bring him home to us, Master Bruce."_

That was enough, Tim shoved the door open. "Jason's _alive_?"

"Yes, my dear boy!" Alfred hung up the phone and crossed the room to Timothy, wearing a genuine smile. He pulled the twelve-year-old into a hug, something out of the norm for the gentlemen. "He's alive, and he's coming home."

_To be continued…_


	26. Chapter 26

"I'm clinging to perfection like most do after they break it. So, do I discard or remake it? I don't mind, but I'm not surprised to find that you do. See, I know I have done all this to you. And I feel fine, but I know the same does not apply to you." _Relient K '_Curl up and Die_'_

**You Do Good, You Find Good**

**By: **The BatThing

**Chapter Twenty-Six: **

Things were awkward, to say the least. Dick Grayson struggled to do his best to remain hopeful, but it was difficult. Here he had felt like he had been loyal to Jason, having known his brother was alive and well. In the past few years, when things got difficult, Dick would find himself talking to his brother, as if he were there. In his mind, Jason understood his position, and he didn't blame anyone.

Bruce had excused himself to go wander the grounds, but Dick had spotted him talking with Talia, for whatever reason. This didn't help the teenager's mood. What was Bruce doing talking to that _traitor_? The woman had kept Jays a secret from them, she was evil, and for whatever reason, Bruce seemed to have a thing for her, despite what he said.

It hadn't been too long ago when the two had first met, and it was clear Talia was obsessed with Bruce Wayne. Though, Dick had always been under the impression that Bruce didn't return those feelings, at least, not to the same intensity. Besides, Selina Kyle was by far, the better candidate, even if she was sarcastic, and always seemed to have the upper hand. She wasn't ever _overly_ kind to Dick, in fact, some days she was a pain in the ass, but she was right for the billionaire. Bruce was a reserved, workaholic with a lack of humor, and awkward way of showing affection. Selina, on the other hand was full of energy, always quick with a comeback, passionate, and more confident than any woman Dick had ever come across. The two balanced each other, and offered something the other didn't have.

Talia though …

Dick had turned away from the sight of the two together, in the atrium. He huffed and puffed, mad that Bruce was putting a woman before Jason.

"You're a guest in this house." A voice, one that belonged to a child, suddenly seemed to come from nowhere, drawing Dick's attention down the hall, to where a boy stood. He looked no older than ten-years-old, with jet black hair and steel blue eyes that seemed to expel some kind of grudge.

"Hi? Uh, yeah, I'm, er, visiting. Yeah, the name is Dick Grayson, nice to meet you." There was something off, and Dick couldn't put his finger on it, but that didn't stop him from attempting to befriend the kid. He approached the child, and offered a hand.

"I wasn't asking a question. I was stating a fact. Don't bother explaining anything, I already know all about you and why you're here."

"Oh. Ok." Dick looked at his hand, which was clearly being refused, and felt a bit silly as he pulled it back. "I guess you live here then?"

"You're nothing like I expected, but then again, I didn't expect much of anything. A shame. Either way, I'm not here to share a conversation, I'm here to simply say that you're a guest in this house. Wandering around, spying on my mother, hardly the way a person like you should behave."

"You're … wait, you're Talia's son?" This was an unexpected bit of gossip. "I didn't know she had a-."

"Why would you? You're nobody. Now, you should get to your quarters and stay there, before you start to make me ... displeased."

That was something to say. A little kid was telling off Dick Grayson, and pretty much winning. It wasn't like Dick could argue. If the kid was Talia's son, then he had no right to tell him off, or refuse. He was a guest, and there was no way to argue that. "Sure thing, mind if you tell me your name? I like to remember people I met, you know, so, if we see each other again, I don't-."

"You have no reason to see me again. I can't imagine why you'd even think that a possibility." There was a pause, and the kid was smiling in a cruel way, clearly arrogant and seeing this conversation as nothing more than useless. "Either way, you may address me as Damian. My grandfather is lord here, followed by my mother, and then I am directly next. If you see me, make sure not to get in my way, or I will dispose of you."

"You're ten years old, kid." Dick couldn't help but say it, but this kid was hardly a threat to him.

"I'm eight, you imbecile."

Did the kid really just call him an imbecile? What the hell was going on? Dick did his best to hide a smile, and nodded. "Ok, ok, got it, sorry. I'll just go to my room, as instructed." Then, for added effect, he offered a bow with praying hands, meaning to mock the child.

"That's right, you should bow to me." It was clear Damian believed that too. He passed Dick, continuing on down the hall, only to stop a few feet away. "And if we do, for whatever reason, cross paths again, make sure you remember your position."

Dick stood up and swirled around, to get one last look of disbelief at the kid, but he was gone, as if having disappeared, without a sound. "What the fucking hell?"

* * *

"I do owe you my thanks, for all you did for Jason, even if it wasn't exactly the way I would have liked you to handle it, I am grateful." Bruce watched as Talia walked over to a fountain, taking a moment to check her reflection in the water. "We're leaving in the morning, but if there's anything I can do to repay you-."

She had made a point to look her best. She always seemed to make it a priority. Her dark black hair almost looked a hue of blue, tied up atop her head, adorned with jeweled combs. "At this moment, nothing, but I do have something I will ask for your … understanding and assistance, in the near future." She turned her blue eyes on the man she couldn't help but want. Even if he couldn't see it, they were the perfect couple, and the power the two would have together would be unimaginable. The things they could do in the world.

"Well, when that time comes, just give me a call, we'll talk it over."

Talia didn't like the way he said those words, they almost seemed disrespectful. He might not have meant it to be that way, but she deserved much more than that. Either way – she found her way in front of him and drew his face in her hands, giving him a strong kiss goodbye. It would be something to occupy his mind on the trip back home, like it or not.

* * *

When Dick got back to his room, he was a bit surprised to find Jason there, sitting on an uncomfortable looking wooden chair, seemingly older than the two teens put together. Jason made no motion, didn't even bother to give Dick a turn of the head. Rather, he stared out the window, watched as the sun sank away, and the shadows drew their length, beginning to blend with the lack of sun.

"Hey." His words were feeble, but at least he gave it a shot. Jason was in his room, right? So that had to count for something. He casually strolled over, hands in his back pockets, his eyes a bit wider than they normally would be. Dick was hopeful. "You know, uh, you should have been with me a few minutes ago. I met this crazy kid. Talk about a piece of work." An awkward laugh.

_Silence._

"Yeah, he even called me an imbecile, said I should bow to him because I was inferior and what not." - "He said his name was Damian, apparently Talya had a son, who knew? Huh?" Yet another nervous laugh, followed by a downcast expression at the lack of reply, it was clear Jason wasn't in a talkative mood. "Listen, Jays, about what you said earlier …"

"I don't want to talk about that right now, Dick." Eyes forward, staring out the window. "I just came here … I dunno why."

Well, that was a start, and it made butterflies erupt in the gypsy's gut, sending a wave of unexpected and direly needed joy. "Ok, that's fine. We don't have to talk about that. Uh, you mind if I talk about other things then? You don't even have to listen, there's just a lot to say, you know, a lot going on and a lot of things I've been telling you when you weren't even there."

To this Jason offered a shrug.

"Ok, so, I guess I'll start at the beginning. Actually, no, let's skip that, 'cause it's … not easy for … for me. Um, well, I got into college, and it's hard. Dad actually let me move out, so I got a taste of freedom, which is great. Though, Tim makes fun of me, calls me a homing pigeon, 'cause I'm still always around. I'd get mad at him for it, but it's hard to get mad at things like that. He only says it 'cause he cares, you know, and I think he likes that I come back home." Dick smiled at the thought. "The other day he wrote on my bottle of adderal that I was a drug addict."

"Adderal? Since when do you need drugs for ADD?"

Dick thought about that, and then offered a shrug. "I guess when I started back to school after taking a break. Everything and everyone changed, my grades plummeted, I couldn't focus, so Dad made me get a script. I don't take them though; most times I throw out a few pills, just out of spite." This earned a cross between a laugh and a giggle. "I used to always think I was like you, you know, being the rebel."

"Whatever."

"You know, after you disappeared, I made this habit of talking to you, like, all the time. Dad and Tim would get mad at me sometimes, but eventually I guess they didn't mind it, in fact I once caught Dad saying: "Just look at this room, Jays." He was talking about my room, of course … it was a mess, but … Dad thought I was asleep, and came in for whatever creepy-ass reason."

"He's still tucking you in at night?" There was obvious sarcasm in Jason's voice, beyond apparent.

"No." This caused a bit of red to appear in the Romanian's cheeks at the slightly cruel comment. "You know how every now and again he comes in to turn off a lamp, or just make sure we aren't awake, secretly on our laptops in the dark, or, heh, Gameboy."

Jason hunched over, resting his elbows on his knees, offering only a tired sigh, verging on the want to say something, and the consideration of leaving all together. "Bruce said we're going back to Gotham in the morning."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"I don't care."

"… Jays, do you …." Dick came to rest against the wall beside the very window his brother was staring out of. "Do you - _hate_ me?" It was a dreadful thing to ask, and the wait for a reply seemed even worse, because it seemed like the answer was so obvious.

"Fuck, Dick, you're still a big pussy." Jason brought his head over, looking up at the teenager he had once considered blood, considered his best friend – heck, _only_ friend. "And you talk too much."

"I get that a lot."

"Well, stop being such a pussy then."

It was hard to tell if this was a joke, or just Jason doing his best to hurt feelings. So, rather than take in the bad, Dick decided to accept it as good. He laughed and nodded his head. "Well, not really what I meant, but yeah, I guess I'll have to work on that too."

Jason returned his gaze out the window, his breathing deep, like he was practicing at not getting mad.

"So, what are you looking at, out there?"

"The dark coming in and the light going out."

"Sounds rather … dismal."

"You mentioned that you saw Damian?"

Out of seemingly nowhere, Dick began to laugh, which earned a glare from his younger brother. He pushed his hand to his mouth, yet unable to stop the smile. "Sorry. What? Damian. Yeah. You know who he is?"

"Why were you _even_ laughing?"

"Because, I still can't believe I'm actually talking to you. I'm being a pussy again, I know, I know, I'm a girl. But -…" Dick threw a light punch into Jason's shoulder. "I'm just so happy that you're back. I'm happy that I can talk to you, _actually_ to your face, and not just to the air. When you were gone-."

"STOP TALKING ABOUT _**THAT**_!" The chair fell back with a sickening clatter.

Dick instantly drew away, surprised. He had thought they were starting to bond, starting to get things back together, like, well, like old times. This reaction was everything he had been working to avoid, and somehow, in the midst of trying, he had screwed it all up. Jason was mad at him, yet again, and the idea of hurting his brother even more was a terrible one. "I'm sorry. I didn't think, I'm stupid." Dick fled through his mind, shifting through the right things to say. "I talk too much, like I said, and I don't think. I'm and idiot, an … imbecile."

"I don't know why I even came here." Jason was looking at the floor now, refusing to even give Dick a spare moment. "Don't think it meant anything, 'cause it _didn't_."

"Oh … ok."

Jason shook his head, and then found his way to the door, hunched over, making a purposeful slam, as to prove his point that much further. Everyone was a moron, including him.

Dick, on the other hand, found himself feeling lonely. He wanted to talk to Bruce, but knew his guardian was off on a romantic stroll with the enemy. _Fuck that._ Who was he supposed to confide in, who was going to help him feel better, or give him advice? And even if Bruce did come back, it wasn't like the billionaire seemed too confident what they should do either. Everyone seemed lost.

_God_.

What Dick wouldn't do to have Alfred here right now? The butler was always able to make him feel better, without making him feel like he was being lectured, or babied.

Maybe Bruce wouldn't mind if he made one quick, little call back home. He scrounged around for his cell, and when he couldn't seem to locate it, made his way to Bruce's bedroom and romped around, making himself at home going through all the luggage and personal belongings of his guardian. He came across a few things of interest, like pill bottles for sleep aid, shots for the extreme situation, and even a bottle of Xanax.

"Strange."

It wasn't like Bruce to be carrying these kinds of things with him, especially not without good reason. The billionaire certainly didn't use them, so what were they … _'they're for me. Wait, calm down Grayson, there's no way of knowing that, maybe he was planning to use them on Jays.' _Either way, it was no matter right now. He located the cell in a side pocket and quickly dialed home, only to receive a busy signal.

"The fuck?"

"I'm happy to see you're making yourself comfortable, going through my belongings without asking." Bruce stood in the doorway, looking peeved. "Richard, if you need something, you ask for it. You don't simply to parading about, taking whatever you want from somebody's suitcase."

"Oh yeah, like _I'm_ a big concern."

"That's not the point."

"Yeah, you're right. The point is that you have some hard medication stashed away in here, and you probably didn't want me to know about it. What's the deal?"

"The deal is that you're going through my things without _my_ permission."

This was a stupid fight, and Dick just tossed his head back with a groan. "Listen, I would have asked, but you were out on a little date with the Miss. 'Rule the World'. I'da loved to come down and ask permission, but apparently her little demon child doesn't like me going around the house without express permission."

"…Whose little demon child?"

"The She-Demon's."

"_Richard._" It was a warning.

"Talia's, apparently she has a kid named Damian. Talk about a piece of work. You should meet him and realize what how wonderful I am. More praise is a must."

"Just go to bed." Bruce shut his suitcase and extended a hand, motioning that he wanted his mobile back.

"I wanted to call home."

"Fine, call, make it fast."

"Well, it's not gonna' _be_ fast."

"Dick, fuck it, I'm not in the mood. Give me the goddamn phone and get to bed." Bruce snapped, clearly in no mood for games, and even less in one to talk about emotional troubles. Dick was only a nuisance at this point, and he should be doing everything to make things easier, not more trouble.

"Fine, take the **fucking** phone!"

"_Hey_!"

Dick ignored the warning yell, and continued towards his room, only to stop when he heard Bruce storming behind him. "What?"

"Don't take that tone with me. I _don't_ need it from you."

"Oh yeah, I guess you don't. You're already getting it from everyone else. Is that how you're feeling? Huh, I guess I could understand because that's _exactly_ what's happening to me too! Let's just face the facts; neither of us wants to help either of us at this point in time. _Thanks_ for making me feel better." He didn't bother to hide the hurt he was feeling. This was his guardian, the person he looked to for help when he couldn't handle things on his own. All Bruce wanted, at this moment, was for Dick to just be brave, shoulder it on and solider on. It was a fair request, but right now … Dick wanted so badly just to talk things out.

But talking things out had never been something Bruce Wayne did well.

* * *

The wait to leave seemed to drag out for everyone. Dick and Bruce just wanted to go back to Gotham. Tim and Alfred were impatiently waiting, unaware of any troubles, thinking only of Jason returning home, and things becoming _wonderful_ again.

Tim racked his brains to remember everything he could about Jason, things that he had pushed into the corners of his minds, in attempts to forget, so he wouldn't hurt. Though now, knowing his brother was alive, and going to be back here, back _home_, within just a matter of hours … he had to remember. There was such an excited feeling springing from inside, tangling all around, though, despite all the elation, there was an underlying concern.

The night Jason disappeared, that horrid night all those years ago … it had been Tim who had been weak. The memories that he feared began to bubble back up, coming to the surface. He could hear Bruce's words.

"_Timothy – where is JASON?"_

_"Where is HE?"_

Bruce had shaken him. Tim remembered, the bruises from Bruce's fingertips had lasted days.

_"He's not saying anything. He won't say a fucking thing."_

Why hadn't he said anything? If he had just told them, right from the start, then none of this would have ever happened. Jason wouldn't have been taken. Jason wouldn't have been hurt. Everyone would have been together, normal, happy …

"Master Timothy?" Alfred had found him out on those marble steps leading to Wayne Manor. "Miss Stephanie is on the phone yet again. Shall I inform her you're currently… unavailable?"

Tim simply nodded.

"Very well."

The door could be heard closing, heavy. And just like the door, Tim shut his eyes, forcing himself to go back and remember that night.

**Two Years Ago:**

_"Just stay right here, ok?" Jason told Tim. "I'll be right back out for you, I swear." _

_Tim clung to his brother's hand, afraid of the decaying house they approached. Scared of something he couldn't see. They shouldn't be here. Dad and Alfred always told them stories of bad people who take little kids away from their families. _

_Jason's hand was suddenly taken away from Tim, and the teenager was offering a forced smile, one that Tim didn't like. He could tell Jason as nervous too. "Promise to stay right here, out of sight, ok? Don't talk to strangers or anything. I'll be right back. And if you need me I'm right inside."_

_Tim was frightened, but he nodded, doing as he was told. "Hurry, Jays. I want to go home."_

_Jason didn't respond, he just hushed Tim and then walked to the front door. _

_For a moment Tim stood there, but then the fear got the better of him. Hurrying over to an old dumpster, he hid behind it, peering out towards the house, shivering, wanting to go home. He continued staring at the front door, waiting for his brother to come back out. All the windows were boarded up, so there was no way he could see inside._

"_I want to go home."_

_Suddenly he heard Jason scream. Tim bolted back, terrified. His brother never screamed like that. He had heard Jason scream from anger, and once when he broke his arm, but this was different. This was bad. _

_Things were slamming around, and Jason was yelling for help._

_Panic took over, and Tim ran towards the house, going for the door, unsure what he was doing, or where his body was taking him. The only thing that stopped him was when the front door began rattling. Somebody was trying to get out. _

_It was Jason. It had to be Jason. He was trying to get out, but couldn't._

"_HELP! HELP! TIM!" Jason's voice was panicking, and it sounded like he was crying._

"_So you brought a friend?" There was another voice now, one Tim didn't know, one that set off all his warning bells, telling him to run._

"_NO!" It was Jason again, the rattling of the door stopped and Tim heard something, like a person being thrown, but worse than that, there was laughter._

"_RUN TIM! RUN!"_

"_Oh, don't be such a sorry sport, let's have your brother join in on the fun. I would have never guessed a two for one. Now be a good boy and get away from the door. I don't want to kill you."_

"_RUN TIM!"_

_And so Tim had run. He had run for his life. Leaving behind his brother screaming. Leaving his brother with a monster, a person who was making Jason cry, who was making Jason hurt._

* * *

The plane ride home was rather quiet. It should have been a joyous occasion, or at least, that's what Dick and Bruce had planned on. They had found Jason, things were good again. Things were looking towards happiness. Yet, it was clear that Jason was far from being in reach. He sat by himself, staring out the window, silent, seemingly in another world, deep in memories.

Dick had tried to talk to him, but Jason hadn't even spared a glance, so the eighteen-year-old made his way over to sit with Bruce. He looked over at his guardian who was going through information on his handheld. His face was grim, and for a reason. He was aware of the situation with Jason, but something new had come up. He was aware of Dick sitting beside him, but couldn't bear to look at the young man.

He had just gotten information concerning Barbara Gordon and Jack Napier.

"Dad?" Dick leaned over, as to see what the billionaire was up to. He was bored and curious, and a bit lonely. "What'cha doing?"

Bruce quickly turned off the instrument and shook his head. "Nothing. Just checking things at work."

"Yeah?"

"Yes."

"Are they dying without you there?" Dick offered a smile.

It was hard to focus on what the teenager was saying. Bruce's mind raced through what he had just read, feeling his stomach tighten, and his stress level rise. It seemed impossible that at the very moment he found what Jack Napier had taken from him, that the psychotic had broken free and escaped, harming yet someone else he cared about.

"Dad?"

"Listen Dick, I need to go make a private phone call. I want you and Jason to stay up here, understand?"

"Uhh-." Dick watched his guardian cross into the aisle, confused, but guessing it was business. "Sure thing."

_To be continued…_

* * *

Yes, I haven't forgotten about Jason and the gun, it's still coming. I figured I'd get to it a lot faster than this, but sometimes things spiral on, and it's hard to draw it short. Hope you all enjoy, thanks for the support!


	27. Chapter 27

"Me and the moon stayed up all night. I brought the whiskey, he brought the light."

-Gaelic Storm-

**You Do Good, You Find Good**

**By: **The BatThing

**Chapter Twenty-Seven:**

Bruce Wayne made his way to the back of the jet, passing the small bathroom, and opening the thin door that led to a tiny room, which was more often than not, useless. It was like a small kitchen, except without any appliances save a tiny fridge that sorted a small variety of spirits, coke, and bottled water.

Once the door was latched, the billionaire took a moment to just meditate, and attempt to relax, calm his temper. Jack Napier being out of the asylum – as if he had planned to stay there until the day Jason was found.

And what about Barbara? What was Jim doing at this moment? Bruce had a fair guess how the commissioner was feeling, and it was hard not to become too overwhelmed. Calling would be a bad idea. Jim didn't need that right now.

Opening the fridge, Bruce pulled out a bottle of brandy and filled a small glass, taking the drink a bit too fast. Even though the alcohol wouldn't solve any problems, it would help the socialite to put things in check and go back out with Jason and Dick. Though, first things first, he had to call Alfred.

It might be wrong, but if he could do it, he was going to keep this from Dick, Jason, and Tim for a few days, just till things calmed down. Jason was coming back home and he had a heap of issues that needed dealt with. Finding out that the man who had tortured him was free and running wasn't going to help anyone. Not to mention Dick finding out the girl of his dreams was in critical condition.

He made the call, sure to be quick. Alfred clearly was opposed, but agreed nevertheless, though not without a fair warning that putting the truth off was only going to make things worse once the boys did find out, and it wouldn't take long with such easy access to information through technology.

Bruce left the quarters, coming back to take his seat beside Dick yet again. "Richard, I'm going to need your phone."

"My phone? Why?"

"There are some … complications. Now, if you would please hand it over. I promise you can have it back in a short while."

The gypsy was clearly suspicious, and didn't make any motion to go find his mobile. "What kind of complications? I didn't do anything wrong."

"This isn't about you doing anything wrong, it's about safety. Now hand it over."

"Can't I just wait till we land? It's up in the overhead, in my backpack."

"Get it."

It was as if Bruce had asked the eighteen-year-old to clean his room. Dick gave a dramatic roll of the eyes accompanied with an unnecessary sigh. He got out of his seat, muttering something under his breath, and walked a ways down to where he had originally sat, near Jason. "Hey Jays, you believe this?"

Jason still wasn't up for a conversation. He simply continued to look out the window, ignoring any conversations or eye contact.

Dick tugged down his backpack, watching Jason from the corner of his eye, as if hoping for some sort of response. It was futile. He dug out his cell phone, flipped it open, and hit the power button, figuring he might as well make sure nobody had called or texted. Though, before it could even load, Bruce had come over and taken it right out of the teen's hands.

"Hey!"

"People lived without phones for centuries. I'm sure you'll do just fine."

"What? Was that supposed to be humor?" Dick decided he'd rather sit by Jason, even if it meant being ignored. At least he wasn't getting punished for nothing.

The flight dragged on, so by the time they landed, Dick was up on his feet, ready to go, followed by Bruce. Jason, on the other hand, remained in his seat, still looking out the same window, as if planning on taking another flight.

Bruce idled. "Jason, come on, we're here. Alfred and Tim are anxious to see you."

It was the first time the seventeen-year-old made any acknowledgement of his surroundings. He looked at Bruce with a glare that was becoming the norm. "Yeah. Right."

* * *

Tim had heard the car pull into the drive. After all, he had been waiting for it for the past 24 hours. He hadn't even been able to sleep, what with all the memories playing over and over in his mind. Between Stephanie's betrayal, and Jason's impending homecoming, it was hard to do much of anything that required focus. So, the twelve year old had sat patiently by whatever window in any room he found himself in.

Alfred, on the other hand, had seemed to be overflowing with energy. He busied himself calling in orders to stores, making sure to stock up on Jason's old favorite foods, buying a whole new wardrobe, explaining to Tim that Jason wouldn't fit in any of his old clothes (like Tim was unaware). Though, most of the butler's time was spent in Jason's old room, trying his best to make it perfect.

There were new sheets, the finest, as well as a goose down comforter, because Jason had always liked those. A 4-inch memory foam mattress topper was even added, as if the bed wouldn't be comfortable enough. The whole room smelled of clean laundry and fresh air. It was tidy, though all of Jason's past belongings sat as they always had, moved only to be cleaned, and then put precisely back.

Tim had tried to help, but it was clear he wasn't doing a job up to Alfred's standards. So, the boy had retreated back into his bedroom, once again taking a seat by the window and staring out into the coming night. He sat there for hours, till Alfred came and asked him if he was hungry.

And so on the night went.

Though now was the day Jason came home, and the whole house smelled like double chunk cookies, made with Dutch almond paste from Holland Michigan, for that special effect. After all, those had been Jay's favorite cookies.

So, when the car pulled through the huge metal gates, Tim could hear Alfred on the move downstairs. No doubt having decorum in his hurried gait, but still notably excited.

Tim, on the other hand, felt his stomach twist and turn in confusing knots. He was overwhelmed with the feeling of joy that his brother was coming home, but at the same time, things were murky. There was an underlying fear.

Either way, he knew better than to just sit in his room and wait for Jason to come say 'hi' to him. So, he headed downstairs, to the front door, and onto those familiar marble steps, where Alfred stood patiently waiting.

"Master Timothy, in all my years I have experienced a many emotion. Though, today, I do believe I am the happiest I have been in a long while." The butler didn't look at Tim when he spoke, but rather continued to watch the car come to a park.

Tim lingered at a response, and then nodded, deciding he wasn't sure what he felt, but knowing how he should feel. "…Me too." He watched the car go into park, and heard the engine die. Dick was the first to hop out of the car, having sat in the back seat, followed by Bruce, and then the passenger side door started to open. Alfred was already going down the stairs, unable to wait any longer.

Tim began to follow, a bit reluctant, though, when he saw Jason appear from the Mercedes, he found himself coming to a halt, not but five steps down the extensive entrance. Something wasn't right, everything was different, and while Jason made no motion to look at anyone, it was clear there was something in his eyes that was cold.

"Master Jason." If Alfred sensed anything, which Tim was positive he did, the butler gave no sign. He went right up to the long lost teenager and drew him into a hug. To Jason's benefit, it was weakly returned.

"Hey, Alfred."

Dick had a smile on his face, real, clearly happy with the whole thing.

When the butler drew away, he took Jason's face in his hands, eyes watering up. "In all these past, agonizing months, I never dreamt my old soul would have the chance to see your face again. How happy you have made me."

Jason wasn't making eye contact, nor smiling. He gave a motion of his head that seemed to convey some sort of good emotion.

"It's been a long trip, I think what Jason needs is some time to unwind and relax." Bruce was pulling out his suitcase from the trunk. A pair of dark shades covered his eyes, but his mouth formed a thin line. "Why don't we head inside?"

"You miss me too, Alfred?" Dick questioned, not waiting to be hugged, but rather hugging the butler without hesitation. He gave a goofy grin.

"Naturally."

Dick laughed at that, eye sparking as they always did. He caught sight of Tim and threw up and arm, waving at his younger brother. "Timmy! What are you doing?" The eighteen year old dashed up the stairs, taking them by threes, till he came to his little brother, smile intact.

It was hard to put his finger on it, but Tim knew Dick was trying to tell him something. He gave a forced smile, then a nod, and started down the stairs to say hello to Jason as well. Though, when he came up to the other boy, Jason offered him hardly a glance. "Hey."

There were a thousand things that could be said, a hundred ways to show that he was glad to see him, but when the time came, Tim found his throat dry and his body frozen. His mind ached for action, and Jason just passed him by, going on up to the manor. Alfred passed, and within a few seconds Bruce was approaching Tim as well.

"Hi, kid. You been good?" The billionaire was clearly sympathetic.

Tim gave a nod, and then fell into step beside the man, both bringing up the rear.

* * *

It wasn't anything like Tim had expected, though, at the same time, he had to admit, he wasn't too surprised with Jason's behavior. It was painfully obvious that the teenager wasn't exactly happy to be back in Gotham. After his initial arrival, the seventeen-year-old went straight to his bedroom, not even wanting one of Alfred's specially made cookies.

Dick, on the other hand, had ten, and was currently polishing off another. He and Tim both sat at the kitchen island. Alfred was off to bring Jason a plate of cookies, just in case, and Bruce was in his office. Tim didn't know why he was sitting with Dick, other than he didn't really want to be alone, on the off chance he might run into Jason and not have a thing to say.

"Why aren't you eating any?" Dick spoke without looking. He was too busy using his arm as a napkin. "They're better than ever."

"I already had some, before you came home."

"Wouldn't stop me."

"Yeah, well, that's you."

Dick smiled, as if pleased with such a thing. "So you're just sitting here with me, 'cause you missed me so much. Right?"

Tim offered a dull look.

"Well, that's ok too." Another cookie was taken off the heaping plate, though this time Dick seemed to be in a more thoughtful state. He eyed the desert for a second or two, and then began to pull it apart, not eating it, but rather playing with his food.

If Alfred were around, he'd be quick to offer a good scolding, probably along the lines of good society and poor manners.

"You know," Dick spoke in a soft tone, different than earlier. "I didn't really think it would be like this. Jason, I mean. I don't know why. I just, I just thought that him coming home was the greatest, and he'd think so too."

Tim listened, thinking of different things he could say. Though, he already knew what he thought on the matter. "Well, I'd probably be depressed too. It's been over a year that he was gone. We don't know what all happened. Plus …" he trailed off, deciding he didn't want to finish what he had planned on saying.

"Plus what?"

"Plus …" _uh_, "plus these things take time."

Dick was looking over at him, as if needing a better pep talk.

"It's like Emperor Hadrian said when Rome was being built. 'Brick by brick, my citizens, brick by brick.'"

Dick burst out laughing, and shoved his little brother playfully. "Timmy, no offense, but what the fuck?"

* * *

Jason Todd was glad when Alfred finally left him to be alone. The cookies sat on the nightstand beside his bed; their power of temptation was lacking, to say the least. Maybe a few years ago they would have been more than enough to solve his problems, but things had more than changed.

He unzipped his duffle bag and looked through his few belongings he had brought back with him. Most of the things had been from Talia. There were paper clippings of his disappearance, the documents of Jack Napier's trial, and how he had been committed to Arkham Asylum, deemed insane.

_Insane_.

Jason had never been the smartest kid in his class, nor had he even been considered to have a great deal of common sense. Yes, he could do pretty well in a fight, and yes, he could hold his own when the going got tough, but brains … well … they never did run in the Todd family.

But, if there was one thing he did know a little about, it was about the law. He had done some time in Juvie, and when his dad was sentenced, he followed as much as he could.

So, when Jack Napier was able to pass with the plea of insanity, Jason knew that such a thing was rare. Hardly _anyone_ could claim that, at least not in the eyes of justice. To be legally insane meant that he had no idea of right or wrong, that they didn't exist in his mind.

_Damn._

Out of all the criminals, out of the hundreds of thousands of people who went to trial each year, why was it that this one got to plea insanity? It hardly seemed fair.

The teenager shifted through his few shirts in the bag, and two pairs of pants, pulling out a wrapped package that he had taken from his stay with Ra's. He glanced at his bedroom door and saw it was still shut, and the lock was fastened. _Good_. He began to unwrap the parcel, feeling his heart rate speed up a bit, which was confusing. Almost always, every moment of every day, Jason had felt one thing – numb. He only ate because he had to, hunger was never an issue. It was only when he thought of Napier that he would feel a ration of _anything_.

So, why was this small metal object he now held in his hands was making him nervous?

There was the sound of someone tromping up the stairs, and when the sound of laughter hit the air, Jason knew it was Dick. He quickly shoved the CS-9 semi-automatic back into the suitcase, cautious. It wouldn't be a surprise if the gypsy decided to come in without an invitation.

Though, in a few seconds it was clear that wasn't the case. Tim's voice could be heard as well, sounding far to adult than Jason had ever imagined it. Dick hadn't been kidding when he said Tim had changed. The kid was so much taller, and his eyes different. It was clear he didn't live in the same world he had when Jason had been there. A lot had changed.

A lot.

The teenager took a seat on his bed, surprised at the softness. Alfred really had gone all out to lavish Jason in his return. It didn't seem fair.

Everyone was so happy that he was back. So, why was it that all Jason could think about was how angry he was? He loved them, still, even if he didn't quite understand it. Yet, love or not, he hated them at the same time. It wasn't that he blamed them for not finding him sooner, or for thinking he was dead. No, it had been Jason's fault, all of it.

"_WHAT_?" Dick's voice was heard again, apparently answering some call. He was running again, down the hall, back towards the stairs, to whoever was speaking to him.

Jason, yet again, pulled out the gun, holding it for a moment. Given a choice, he would have been happy to use it on Napier, and kill that son of a bitch and his girlfriend for what they did to him, and to Shelia Haywood. But, that option seemed far away. Jason wasn't going to get that kind of justice, not in this case, because Napier was protected by the law, screw everyone else.

Jason brought the gun up, and bit down on it, instantly tasting the bitter, and thinking, for whatever reason, that it smelled like blood. He squeezed his eyes shut tight, refusing to be brave enough to keep them open. It wasn't like anyone would blame him, or even know.

Dick was yelling again, though this time, it was different than before. There was no happiness in his voice. Rather, whatever he was saying was filled with fear, concern, anger – as if every negative emotion could fit into a few words.

Jason caught himself listening, but Dick's voice was fading away, clearly getting further. The teen considered, and then shoved the gun back into his duffle, tossing a few clothes on top of it, as to keep it hidden from sight. Maybe he wasn't ready to go that far, maybe he was a coward, or maybe whatever was happening downstairs was worth him hearing.

He prayed it was.

Hurrying to his bedroom door, he unlocked it and slipped outside, looking down the hall and seeing Tim standing at the edge of the stairs, looking down at where Dick could be heard.

"I didn't want you making this into a huge issue. We have enough going on." Bruce was speaking, his voice calm.

"Yeah, so not telling me that Barbara is in critical condition, that's not a huge _issue_? The fuck, dad?"

Jason came to stand beside Tim, glancing at his younger brother for a moment, both sharing eye contact, but then looking back down at the two arguing. "_What happened to Barbara?"_ Jason whispered carefully, feeling a bit odd in doing so, feeling like he was back home, spying on a fight, just like all those years ago.

There had been countless times he and one of his siblings would hide away, eavesdropping on a conversation.

"_I … she was shot, in the spine … in surgery still. They think she'll make it, hard to say."_ Tim looked over at Jason, eyes wide, wanting to say more, but cautious on that matter. _"Dad didn't want us to know."_

"_He took away Dick's phone on the plane home." _

"_Yeah._" Tim bit his lower lip, still looking at Jason.

"I'm going to see her." Dick started to go towards the front hall, but was stopped in his tracks by Bruce's words.

"And what good will that do her? They're not going to let you in. The best thing you can do, for her _and_ for her father, would be to wait for an update. Don't you think Jim is dealing with more than enough? Don't make him have to deal with you as well."

Dick's fists were balled up, and his eyes shut tightly. "I'm not going to just wait around."

"I'm sure Jim feels the same way."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Bruce was aware of the audience up the stairs, and looked up at the two boys. "You both should come down here. We all need to have a talk."

Tim started down the stairs quietly, following the instructions, but stopped when he saw Bruce and Dick both looking past him, up at Jason. The twelve year old turned his head, looking up at Jason, sensing a rising tension.

"You'll want to hear this Jason." Bruce spoke gently, which seemed strange. He was making a point to try and make eye contact, but was getting nowhere with that attempt. "As hard as it's going to be for me to say, and for us all to hear."

Jason was looking at the wall to his right, arms folded in a cramped manner, held close to his body. He wasn't comfortable at all, and wished he had never left his bedroom. "Then just tell me."

"…Fine. If that's what you want."

Dick and Tim were exchanging glances.

"Barbara was shot at Arkham Asylum. She was waiting for her father, and was in the wrong place at the wrong time." Bruce kept his head held high. "Jack Napier escaped, killed and wounded his fair share, and Barbara was sadly one of those victims. He got away, and the police have yet to find him."

Bruce's eyes were locked on where Jason stood, still staring down the wall. He hadn't been sure what to expect, reaction wise, from his middle child. Fear, anger, confusion, disbelief, something along those lines at least, but all Jason's face displayed was the continuation of earlier; he didn't even seem to care. "Jason?"

"So what?" Jason finally looked away from the wall, eyes going in Bruce's general direction, yet not meeting his guardian's. "There's nothing you can do about it, is there?"

"I plan to do everything in my power to help the police find him. I've already informed them that any financial-."

"Because that helped so well the last time?"

"That's not fair, Jason."

"No." Jason gave a dead smile, looking at nothing. "It's not fair."

"Richard. Timothy." Bruce looked between the three boys. "You both, and you Jason, are to stay on the grounds. You aren't to go anywhere without the express permission of either myself or Alfred. Is that clear?"

Tim nodded, understanding that rule, and more than eager to agree to it. After all, it wasn't like he had a slew of placed he often visited. "What about school?"

"I'll contact your schools, and have your professors send material. They'll understand." Bruce glanced over at Dick. "You can help Tim, if he needs it. Alfred will be busy enough."

"Yeah?" Dick forced a laugh. "Maybe you're forgetting who you're talking about. I don't think Tim's going to need any of my help. Fifty says he's already got all the work done for the year."

"Either way."

Jason was now looking over at Tim, surprise evident in his face to hear that Dick – Dick _Grayson_ – the fucking valedictorian of his class, was saying that he wouldn't be help out little Timmy Drake, the kid who hardly could pass the third grade. It took a lot for him not t ask what level the twelve year old was at currently.

"What about me?" Dick glanced up at Jason for a moment, considering asking what Bruce was going to do about Jason as well, concerning school, but decided against it.

"You're practically done with school, and your teachers understood enough to let you miss these past few days. I think we can talk them into sending your assignments here."

Jason turned to walk away, back to his bedroom, when his name was called out.

"Jason, you and I need to discuss a few things."

"Like what?"

The teenager wasn't going to make things easy for Bruce, which was becoming painful obvious. So, rather than try and explain his reasoning, the billionaire simply began to climb the stairs. "That's fine, we can talk about it in your bedroom."

There, for the first time, Jason made eye contact. He turned around, looking surprised and a bit nervous. "Ok, we can talk in the office. That's fine." Though, he saw Bruce didn't slow in his approach. It was a matter of seconds, and they were standing side by side. "There's nothing you can't talk about here."

"Come on, this won't kill you." Bruce didn't wait for Jason, but continued on his way, going to the boy's bedroom door, a bit suspicious with the reaction.

"So, what do you want to talk about?" Jason had been quick to follow the billionaire into his bedroom, going straight for his bed, grabbing the unzipped duffle bag sitting there, and closing it up, and then shoving it under his bed. He heard the door click shut, and looked over to where Bruce stood, hands in pockets, offering a quizzical look to the teen. "You said you wanted to talk, didn't you?"

"Yes. I know you're probably not up to a full debriefing of past events, which is understandable, but I would like to know a few things, if you feel up to that."

"I don't feel up to talking about anything right now, actually." Jason made sure to guard his position, afraid that Bruce might ask for his suitcase, or just take it. After all, he had been lucky to get the gun into the house in the first place. Fortunately when you own your own private jet, you don't get patted down for illegal items.

"Jason." Bruce came to the footboard of the bed, and sat on the edge, a bit hunched over as he looked over at the mirror hanging above a chest of drawers. He could see his own reflection, as well as Jason's staring over at him. The boy was suspicious. "I don't know what all happened to you."

Silence.

"It's hard to … it's hard to ask, because part of me doesn't even want to know. While you were missing I went through a thousand different scenarios, each one more horrible than the last. You can't imagine the nightmare we lived with each day, yet, it's not fair for me to say that, because I know you can."

Jason was shaking his head, eyes narrowed.

"I want to know what happened to you. I want to make it right, even if it seems like that's impossible. I want you to let us help you. I know you just got back, and that it's not fair for me to be asking anything of you right now. I just want you to know that whatever you need - _anything_, then tell me. Jack Napier isn't going to get near you again."

There was a flash in the boy's eyes, and he half snarled. "Of course he won't. He won't be after me this time, will he?" Jason could see Bruce's immediate confusion, and for whatever reason, started to laugh, like it were hilarious, even though it was the furthest thing.

"You're talking about him going after Tim or Dick, aren't you?"

Jason caught himself, laughter stopping, surprised to hear what Bruce had said, surprised that the billionaire had figure it out so fast. There, in a single second, he imagined himself in Dick or Tim's position when Napier had taken him away. He imagined Tim going through the torture he had. "Yes."

"I was told that he had planned to get Dick, but for whatever reason, changed his target to you instead."

"I was easier to fool." Jason said the words in a haze, still far away in thought.

Bruce said nothing for a moment, and then shook his head. "Jason, if there's anything you can tell me, or the police, that would help find Napier or Quinnzel…"

"There's nothing to say."

"…Jays … I know this probably won't matter to you, but … I'm sorry. For what it's worth, whatever happened to you, it's something that I'll never forgive myself for, and I understand if you can't find it in you to forgive me either." Then, with that, Bruce rose to his feet and left the room, shutting the door gently behind him.

* * *

The first few days were filled with complete, absolute, and unmatchable boredom, well, at least that's how Dick Grayson felt. He all but climbed the walls, trying his best to get some sort of information concerning Barbara. Things had improved, somewhat, if you could call it an _improvement_. She was stable, she would live, but … they said the bullet had done enough damage to her spine, and she would never walk again.

The information tore Dick up, and he begged and pleaded with Bruce to go see the girl, but, just as before, the answer was 'no'. If it had been because Bruce was concerned for Dick's safety, well, _yeah right_. The teenager would have blow past that red tape in under ten seconds. But, sadly, that wasn't the case. It still all settled on Barbara and Jim, and what was best for them for the time being.

The deal was that Dick could call, and if Barbara or Jim said it was ok for him to visit, then Bruce would allow it. So, the teenager had tried, time and time again. He left voicemails, sent texts, but the only answer he would receive was _nothing_. Finally Bruce told him to stop calling, that he was being a pester, so Dick only dialed when he was absolutely sure no one was around.

Still, no one picked up, and no one called back.

So, the eighteen-year-old tried to buddy up with Jason, figuring if he couldn't be with his girl, then he'd do what he could to make things right with his brother. Though, in comparison with trying to make contact with the Gordon family, Jason was impossible. He tolerated Dick, at best, most of the time keeping quiet, or slinking off to some hidden corner or the house, where he wouldn't be seen for hours.

Tim wasn't much better, shooing Dick away, muttering how he had too much to do concerning school, which was a big **FAT** lie. The kid was all but graduated, it seemed.

"You keep giving me the same load of shit, Tim, and I'm done buying it. I know you already finished the school year. I'm no idiot. And Alfred told me a month ago that you aren't allowed to take any summer classes, or advanced sessions." Dick had finally spoken his mind two days later, after being shooed away for the umpteenth time.

"Yeah, that was a month ago. You can thank Jack Napier for changing Dad's mind. The only reason he wasn't going to let me take those classes was because Alfred told him that I didn't have a social life. So, seeing as we currently aren't _allowed_ to socialize, it became ok for me to take on a few more things." There was apparent glee in the words. Tim was bubbling with excitement to advance in his school work, high with the idea that he would be able to graduate school as soon as humanly possible, and escape all the idiots that surrounded him there.

Dick decided that he and Tim _really_ weren't related at that point, no question about it.

So, he had decided to go work on his mustang. Bruce had managed to get it back, though had told Dick he wasn't to drive it, and it was going to be given to Tim, as soon as the teen got his license. Dick had been more than fine with that, telling Bruce he understood, and that for his birthday he'd like a more updated model, preferably in black this time – with racing stripes.

For some reason, Dick didn't think Bruce took him seriously.

So, here he was, poking around his car from high school, thinking about all the ways he could make it even better. There were a few new scratches in it, sadly the result of Crime Alley, and Dick did his best to polish the paint up, but it hardly did any justice. So, he went about changing the oil, rotating the tires, and checking the other fluids.

In the middle of draining the old oil, Dick was startled by the booming voice of his guardian, coming no less than four feet away.

"Alfred told me I could find you out here."

"Geesh! Think you could let me know you were there?"

Bruce was taking a turn, walking around the car, eyeing it. "Tim will be glad you're doing this for him."

"Ha. Ha." The gypsy pushed his bangs out of his eyes, feeling the oil on his hands against his face. _Damn_. "He's got a few years to go before that happens … Unless you've rethought my offer of a trade?"

"Nice try, chum." The billionaire leaned against the passenger side, looking at Dick, expression hard to read as usual. "I got a call, and thought I'd come talk to you."

"Barbara?"

Bruce gave a slow nod. "She's doing better. Jim said to let you know, and that you can visit in a day or two. He said Barbara needs some time to adjust."

That was confusing. Dick squinted, shrugging his shoulders. "Yeah, ok, but it's _me_. I'm her best friend. Why doesn't she want to see me? I can help her feel better. It's not like I'm going to make things harder."

"Maybe she doesn't want you to see her in the condition she's in."

"I don't _care_ about that."

Bruce was proud to hear those words. Jim and he hadn't talked long, but from what he heard, the young man Barbara had been seeing hardly called or stopped by. Even her close friends seemed to fade into the woodwork. Jim said Dick was annoyingly persistent, but it meant a lot compared to the other support given. "She'll come around, just give her some space."

"What is it with everyone wanting so much space?" Dick couldn't help but vocalize his frustration. "Jason doesn't want anything to do with me, Tim just cares about school, you're off doing whatever it is you do, and Barbara won't even return a call or text! If you ask me, you all are getting way too much space, and it's doing more harm than good."

"You're using the right kind of oil, right?"

This earned the billionaire a dirty look. "_Duh_."

"Just curious."

"You're _just_ changing the subject. Why'd you have to go and let Tim take some more classes anyhow?"

Bruce snorted. "Maybe you should sign up for some, if you're so bored. It's not such a horrid idea. It's keeping him occupied and out of trouble."

"No, it's making him even more of a hermit crab – the kid hardly has any friends, and you know what's worse? He doesn't even want to hang out with _me_. I understand not wanting to spend time with you, but _me_? I'm supposed to be a privilege to be around, and he acts like it's a chore." Dick sighed, leaning against the car, next to Bruce. "This whole thing _sucks_."

That was hard to argue with. The past week had been one of disappointments. Everyone was wrapped up with all the problems caused by Napier, enjoying someone else's company, or even taking a moment to laugh, hadn't really been an option. Apparently though, Dick seemed to be as light hearted as before, disappointed, upset, but still in good enough spirits. "Let's say you and I make a deal, seeing as Tim got to take those extra classes he wanted."

"Hurumph."

"We order the parts for the car of your choice, unassembled." Bruce only started his sentence, and that was more than enough to get Dick out of his gloomy mood. The teen was suddenly smiling, mouth going a mile a minute.

"You mean it? Oh MAN, you won't regret it. I swear I'll take amazing care of it, you won't ever find a scratch or a dent, hell – a smudge! And I'll stay out of your way, and I won't bother Tim so much, and maybe even Jason will want to help me, you know? I think this is a good idea for him too, 'cause I mean, what guy doesn't like cars?"

"Dick, slow down, I wasn't finished."

"Sorry." The gypsy was still all smiles.

"You assemble it, without cheating. Yes, if Jason wants to help, he can, but I'm not going to be out here doing it for you, nor is Alfred. If you can't figure it out, then no deal. You can ask for help, and I can explain it to you, but as for the work, you have to do it yourself."

"Me and Jays."

"If he wants to help."

Dick nodded, over and over. "I swear. Don't worry, I'll figure it out. It's not gonna' be _that_ hard."

"So you say."

"Oh, come on, I've helped you a ton of times."

The billionaire eyed the teenager, who was already clearly leaps and bounds beyond him. Dick had helped with a few fix-it projects, and tune ups. But, assembling a _whole_ car, especially the one Dick had been wanting? Bruce knew better than to think the kid was going to fly through it. "We'll see."

* * *

Barbara was grateful for all the support and help her father gave. It seemed that from the moment she woke up in her hospital bed, he had been by her side, a constant. The only time he would leave would be to get her something, or go to the bathroom. Otherwise he ate with her, slept on the uncomfortable pull out bed, took calls, and even did his work all from the tiny room.

He was protective and supportive, asking all the questions when the doctor came in. When the matter of walking came up, he made sure Barbara knew that they would do everything they could, and if she never was able to walk, then that was more than fine, and she should know that there were plenty of amazing people, who shared the same handicap, yet lived extraordinary lives.

Barbara listened to his words of comfort, yet blocked them out, pushing them aside as a formality. Her father had to say things like that to make her feel better. That was his job as a parent. They didn't hold much meaning, but the girl listened – for him, she listened, and pretended to be cheered. Though, it was obvious to everyone that she was far from being happy, or accepting her new state of being.

She didn't touch her food, which was more than alarming enough. She had been in shape, healthy, but now, as the days slowly passed on, her weight seemed to go with them. So, when they forced her to eat her food, she found herself unable to keep it down. It was just _too_ much.

Everything was too much.

Everything was not enough.

Gale, her college boyfriend, was of no help. He called, out of respect, but it was clear that he didn't know what to do, or how to react. They hadn't been together more than two months now – and he had never taken their relationship as serious as he should have. Barbara was a hot girl, who he was more than happy to show off, and could hold a conversation – but it hadn't been a serious relationship.

So, now that this serious, life-changing thing had come to pass, Gale only wanted to get out. Though, how do you break up with a girl who had just been through so much? He did care about her, but … there was nothing he could say or do to make things bearable.

When he went to visit, he had taken along a friend for support – not for Barbara, but for him. It was hard finding someone willing to go with him, but eventually he managed, promising to buy lunch for the favor. It was a stiff meeting. Barbara hardly said enough, and Gale felt like he had sandpaper in his mouth. So, after ten minutes, he said he had to get going, and left, promising to call the next day.

The call lasted a little over a minute.

Barbara took this as it came. She took it for what it was. Gale wanted out of their relationship, and who was she to force him to be with her? Who would want to be with her now? Who would want to carry such a responsibility? Who wanted a girl like her, when there were so many others around who were able to do so much more?

Jim told her she would go to physical therapy, and learn how to do everything she had done before, though, this time without use of her legs. The very idea was frightening – and Barbara wanted nothing to do with it. It seemed like if she did that, then she would never walk again, like she would be admitting defeat.

"Honey, Dick called again. Why don't you give him a call back? You know he wants to make sure you're ok." Jim seemed to mention Richard Grayson at least once a day, prodding his daughter. The commissioner _hated_ Gale, and was one step away from running the guy off. Nothing could excuse how that boy treated his daughter. At least Dick made an effort.

Well, more than an effort. He seemed incapable of backing off. He called daily – not just Jim, but Barbara's phone. He'd text the girl, but Barbara never bothered to reply.

"_Why don't you want to talk to him?_"

"_I just don't_."

It was a horrible answer, but Jim hadn't pushed it. At least not at first, but as the days wore on it became clear his daughter was depressed, and only going deeper. Her friends didn't visit, Gale made things worse, and the hospital did little to make anyone feel better. The staff was wonderful, but it was just such a depressing place to be.

Uncomfortable lives.

* * *

It had been raining all day. A musky, murky, damp, annoyingly humid day. The kind that made you stay indoors, and dread the idea of being caught in the weather. The rain was simply a drizzle, but it was sticky, and constant, and impossible not cross outdoors without tracking in cut grass or mud. So, at Wayne Manor, half the occupants found themselves rather bored.

Alfred didn't seem to mind all too much, chiding on how it would help his tomato plants, and other such simplistic things. Dick was in the same way, pleased with a change of pace, and pulling up his hood and dashing outside in camo shorts and flip-flops, giving no heed to puddles or the smell of dead worms. His focus was on the garage, and working on his car, something that had become somewhat of an obsession of late, even though hardly anything had come. He still poured hours into his project, even if it meant just daydreaming about the finished product.

Tim and Jason, on the other hand, were disgusted with the lack of sunshine and freedom. The rain kept them indoors, and away from whatever they might do on a sunny day (which was usually staying indoors, but they enjoyed the option – thank you very much.)

Tim attempted to go and join Dick, but found the smell of oil and metal a bit much. Not to mention his older brother's poor taste in music blaring overhead, making it near impossible to hold a conversation or think straight.

"_What the hell are you even listening to?"_

Dick gave his normal, all teeth showing, smile, pearly whites as annoying as usual. "_You like it? Gaelic Storm!"_

In Tim's opinion, it sucked. So he had left, heading back indoors and mad at those stupid bits of grass that clung to his bare feet, as if for dear life. He knew better than to track them any further than the entry way, so he dug around in the closet and found the rag basket, and began the task of cleaning up when he heard a subtle "_Ahem_."

Jason was just a few feet away, jeans, bare feet, and a black sweat jacket, hood up, apparently considering manning up to the drizzle that plagued Gotham.

There it was, that awkward feeling that Tim had ever since Jason had come home. It was a mix of shame, embarrassment, but most of all – fear. Talking to Jays … it was something he floundered at. Of course, it wasn't like Jason helped in the least. "Uh, hey. You going out?" Tim stopped his balance act and motioned towards the bare feet. "I'd wear shoes. It's not worth the pain."

_Lame._

"I be ok."

"Dick is working on the car."

"Figures."

"You going to go talk to him?"

Jason was quiet, looking at the tile floor, wondering if Alfred had picked it out – because it was certainly not something the butler would normally candidate for. He didn't like talking to Tim, it was hard and stifled.

"Well …" Tim hated the silence. "I'm going upstairs. Homework."

"Yeah."

Tim scrambled up the stairs to his room, feeling heat rise to his cheeks out of the plain guilt he felt talking to his … brother. It was so strange to think that, Jason was his brother still, right? There was no doubt about Dick, but things had changed so much with Jays.

"_COME ON TIMMY! WE AIN'T GONNA WAIT FER YAS ALL DAY!" Jason had been ten years old at the time, standing across the creek that ran through the woods in the northern part of the manor, looking annoyed. "If yer too big of'a baby to cross it, then go home."_

_Four years old, frightened of walking across the fallen tree, Tim had simply started to cry. He remembered that – and then Jason had come back and taken his hand, jerking him further down the creek. _

"_Yer four, and ya needs ta' learn how ta' cross a log."_

"_Why?"_

_There had been an exasperated sigh. "Cause if ya' don't then ya wont make it if monsters are chasin' ya."_

The memory wasn't perfectly vivid, but it was one of so many where Jason had been his brother. Now … this painful relationship was nothing like it should be. Why hadn't Tim done more to save his brother?

_A ten year old, looking down at him. "Ya' won't make it when the monsters are chasin' ya."_

Jason had been right.

_To be continued…_

* * *

THANKS so much for all the amazing reviews. I'm gonna sound stuck up, but don't think I am – I just haven't had time to answer half of you (or even write). I can't begin to express my gratitude that so many of you are reading. And, oh my, I think I would have easily let this go on longer if not for all the gentle reminders that people are waiting.

So, thank you. I'm working three jobs right now, for the next month or two, but I'll be sure to make time to write and update.

I have so many thanks I need to pass out, and I'm dying for sleep (I only got three hours last night), so please forgive me for not being better at it.

I love feedback, suggestions, or ideas. It's fun to imagine different things, and more minds are better than just mine. Thanks to _Hellion_ for your input about the gun. I totally agreed. Rock on!

-CAS


	28. Chapter 28

Hey! It's me. I'd say more, but gotta run around cause people just got here. Merry Christmas!

**_You Do Good, You Find Good_**

**By:** Cassie

**Chapter Thirty**

Jason Todd sat on the cooling stone steps, feeling the heat leaving as the sun slowly crept into the backdrop, ducking away behind the large cottonwoods that seemed to tower above countless other trees. Their leaves clapped goodbye with the wind, reminding the teenager subtly of the shore and for a moment he entertained the thought of running to the edge of Wayne Manor, where the cliffs dropped and you could smell the salt, and, on a clear enough day, spot a distant ship or fishing boat. Though Jason Todd remained on the stairs, allowing the day to come to a close before his very eyes, and taking note of the fact that he could smell the ocean.

'It's going to storm.'

Well, storm or rain, whichever Mother Nature decided. Either way, the temperature would drop, and the wind would gust, brining the already surrounding smell of salt all the more near. Alfred would open all the windows in their rooms, check the screens, and say something about how this was the kind of weather for a mystery novel.

Jason didn't much feel like reading, nor did he feel like pretending to care about such simplicities. He would much rather just crawl under his sheets and pull the blankets over head, ignoring anything and everyone, as to make time pass - make tomorrow come, and have it go by as effortlessly as these past few weeks had. Then, one day, he would wake up a very old man and forget what it was that bothered him so much. He would be happy, and find joy in the rain, and novels, and run out to see the ocean before the last rays of sun flickered out.

Though, of course, then he would die - but at least he would die pleased. Yes, that would suit him - to die a happy fool, none-the-wiser.

A noise to the left, near the patch of weeds, and the wild strawberry starter, caused Jason to turn his attention. To his surprise he found -

"Hey-a." Dick looked near miserable, not a smile in place or the inkling of offering one. Rather, the gypsy took an uninvited, unusually silent seat next to his younger brother. It was then that Jason noticed a piece of crumpled paper in Dick's balled up fist, held close to his stomach.

Jason gave it a moment's notice, then turned his eyes upward, glancing yet again at the sky. There was no change there. "You don't look so good." It had been a simple observation, but it opened the dam, and words came flooding into the once peaceful silence.

"Well, so, Dad's been on me about, uh, about my ... grades, what they are and stuff. I hadn't really bothered to look them up yet, 'cause, you know, the car..." Dick gave a half tremble and shook his head, eyes shutting for a moment, in dread. "This morning he woke me up before he went to work and told me when he came home he wanted them printed out and waiting for him."

"Uh-oh." Jason realized what that crumpled paper was.

"They're not all bad - just the one's he'll really care about." The last bit was said with some sort of distant distain.

To that, Jason just shook his head, knowing better than to believe that comment. If there was one thing he remembered about school, it was the day grades were sent out. There had been the second time when he flunked out, unable to pass the third grade, and on the car ride home thought of ways to break his arm as to lessen the Bruce's anger. It hadn't worked. In fact, when his guardian arrived at Leslie's clinic and heard the reason Jason had thrown himself off the roof of the garage, it had made things worse.

Leslie's soothing hand on his back, nor the sucker she had given to him after the cast was on, made it any better.

_"I can't believe you did this again, Jason Peter Todd. We've been over this far too many times to make what you did excusable. You know better!"_

_"I said I was sorry!" Jason couldn't stop his tears, and they weren't from the throbbing in his left arm. He remembered being so embarrassed of those tears, but able to make them subside._

_"Sorry?! You threw yourself off the garage because you thought it would make things better? What's going to happen when your social worker comes and demands to know why you're so banged up yet again? Huh? How many times do I have to tell your every accident is recorded and broadcasted? People don't understand, they assume that myself, or Alfred, are hurting you."_

_"Well, then I'll tell them myself."_

_Leslie was trying to say something, but Bruce plowed right through whatever it was, holding up a hand to her. Something he never did. "People are finding it hard enough to believe that you're intentionally hurting yourself. One day, hell, maybe even this time, they're going to charge me with child abuse, and then they're going to take you away. They'll make Dick and Tim go through rigorous questioning, and maybe even make them go as well."_

_"Bruce-."_

_"No, Leslie, he's a selfish little boy to put us in this situation again, and it's high time he heard this." Bruce turned to face Jason, eyes raging, speaking with a voice that was cold, low, and steady._

_Jason felt himself shaking uncontrollably. He wanted to say he was sorry, and take back what happened._

_"You and I are going to go home, and you are going to apologize to Alfred, Dick, and Tim for making them all worry about you. You are going to write a letter, in cursive, about what you've done, explaining why you did it and why it was wrong. Then, you and I are going to go over that letter, and you're going to fix each mistake I find."_

_"Bruce, you and I really need to talk in private about a few things concerning Jason and his prescriptions." The kind doctor was motioning towards the door. "Jason, are you still in a lot of pain?"_

_He shook his head, refusing to think about the possibility of being in pain. There were far bigger issues to worry about. It wasn't till late that night, in the middle of sitting in Bruce's office, struggling to figure out the correct spelling of garage, that he really started to realize all the splinters in his hands, or feel the gouge on his head that Leslie had covered with a large bandage._

_It was between learning there was no 'd', and Bruce telling him that was enough for the night, that Jason was hit with the wave of exhaustion that he had been barring away._

_He had been so scared of not moving on with all his classmates, and so ashamed that he wasn't smart like Dick, or cute and little, like Timmy. His teachers all hated him, he knew it. Miss Barnes had written a letter to Bruce and Alfred, instructing that next year Jason would be in a special program, and if he used any curse words, or hurt any of the other kids, he would be sent home immediately. Mr. Reedy, the Librarian, wrote a similar one, though this time instructing that and poor behavior, or abuse to the books, would earn a ticket to the 'silent room' for the remainder of the year, and Jason wouldn't be allowed come for 'library time'._

_"I can't believe that you did so poorly this year. I keep hoping, with each new school year, that it's going to be different. That you're going to behave, and make good choices, but sometimes it seems like that's never going to happen." Bruce said, as he was giving Jason some pain medication and a glass of strawberry milk. "You're going to spend this summer vacation studying. I asked Alfred to find a tutor for you, and that way, when next year comes around, you'll be more than able to pass, hopefully even advance early somehow."_

_There wasn't anything to say._

_"And Leslie gave me some pills that we're going to try out. Alfred is a stickler on making your own way, without any drugs, but even he thinks it's time to make some changes. If medication helps you focus, and control your ... behavior, then it's wrong of us not to let you try it."_

It had been the start to a different way of life, for Jason. He remembered waking up the following morning and taking the pill, excited to think he would be like Dick. After that there were no more 'accident's', and his grades improved, slightly, as well as his behavior. He even made his first friend that following school year, and Alfred had made his favorite dinner when his progress report came through, and he didn't have a single D or F. True, there weren't any A's, and only a few B's, but still - it was something.

"Jason, I don't know what I'm going to do." Dick's voice grew stronger, coming out of the backdrop, no longer a blur or inaudible words. "I mean, I've never had this problem, I've never brought home bad grades. Never even a C+, and now ... I failed two of my classes." His voice seemed to grow weaker, and the gypsy slowly brought out the paper, carefully opening it, trying to smooth out the countless wrinkles, as if to undo his mistakes. "Completely bombed."

"Well, you could always jump off the garage roof."

To this, Dick seemed to lose his wind, his eyes grew wide, and for a moment he flashed back to that distant memory. Then, a smile finally broke free, and he shook his head, offering a chuckle. "Yeah? That never worked so well for you."

A shrug.

Dick looked down at the paper, and took in a deep breath, returning his attention where he didn't want it.

Nothing more was said.

* * *

The noise came from a distant, and for a moment, he thought it to be nothing more than a catbird. After all, there had been many times when he had mistaken the bird's call for a stray cat, and spent a moment or two looking around for some grounded creature. Though, when the mew came again, Jason couldn't help but force himself to rethink his theory.

"Wew!" It came from the patch of tiger lilies, under a window. There was no doubt about it, at that point - a cat.

Jason gradually found his way over, glancing around, as if to see if perhaps anyone else was in the proximity. If so, he could just let the whole matter go, and in passing, alert Dick or Tim to the presence or a possible stray. No doubt they would find it, and bring it to Alfred.

"Wew! Wew! Wew!" The tiny cries grew in persistence, as if trying to lure the teenager over.

"Ok, ok..." Jason took a few steps closer, and the whines died away, much like a crickets, and so he was left with nothing but the lily stems, buds, and twisted flowers, dead from the lack of sunshine. "Hello?"

Silence.

Hunkering down, he peered into the cluster of green. "Come out." He heard his own voice and knew better than to expect any animal to running out. If anything, all he was doing was making the critter all the more frightened. So, for a moment, Jason did nothing. He just sat there, feeling a bit of a chill settle deeper in. "It's getting fucking cold out here ... so, I'm going inside."

'Oh, that's good. Go on inside, and leave the thing here, out in the cold, because you won't even bother to find it. That's real nice. Like father, like son, huh?'

"Yeah, well, so what?" Jason argued with himself, hardly noticing what he was doing. "Maybe I am a bad person, deep down. What the fuck do I care?"

'Everyone already expects you to turn out that way, right?'

"Oh shut-up, Jays." The young man grabbed a fistful of his hair, feeling heat come to his cheeks about how silly he was for playing the self-pity card.

"Mew!"

Jason's head snapped up, eyes wider for a moment, as they settled back on the group of flowers. His thoughts returned to the problem at hand, and, with a sigh, he fell back, allowing himself to lie stomach up to the stars, angry with himself and angry with the cat for being there - which, of course, simply made him angry with himself for being angry at some stupid cat that didn't do anything.

"GARRH!" He threw his hands over his eyes in a poor attempt to block out his thoughts, but was left only with the ability to focus on them all the more. There was no distraction in the blackness. "Ok, ok, ok, ok ... be productive. Don't think, do ... do ..."

"Wew! Wew!"

The teen ignored it, keeping his eyes covered, figuring he did more harm than good bothering with whatever animal was in there anyhow. No doubt it was frightened of a strange boy, who talked to himself and occasionally yelled out in frustration. Never before had animals really liked him, or warmed up to his being near - Dick was always a natural with them ... but never Jays. Perhaps it was due to their sixth sense, and somehow they could just tell that he was generally a bad person.

Or something.

In the silence of continuing thought, two cold paws pressed against his leg, tiny, hardly present. There was clear hesitation before the animal decided to further its journey, and climbed up to Jason's stomach, to his chest, and then, pressed its wet nose against his chin.

To this, Jason opened his eyes, slowly, and found himself looking at the tiniest possible kitten (or so he figured) in the whole 'damn' world.

It wasn't very pretty to look at, skin and bones, matted fur with some gunk in its eyes - not to mention ears that looked like they had never been cleaned.

"Hi. I'm Jason."

With that the little creature launched off the teenager, flying back into the patch of lilies, leaving Jason feeling a bit terrible, and wondering if perhaps he was really just, deep down, a bad person.

* * *

Bruce came home to a near empty house, which wasn't too strange. After all, it had mostly just been himself, Alfred, and Tim living at home these past few years. Not to mention those nights where Timothy would be attending some study session or out with friends (whoever they might be. Tim seemed to make a point of never bringing them around).

The billionaire made his way upstairs, feeling groggy and tied up in his work suit - thinking of the countless ways he could just fire half of the members on his board. Selfish, rich bastards, who did little to consider any good deeds that didn't profit their image or the company.

"Hey." Tim was sitting on the top step, honed in on some new hand-held computer phone that looked far too condensed to be of any real use. Though, from the looks of it, the twelve year old thought very differently.

"When did you get that?"

"You gave it to me."

"I gave it to you?"

To this, Tim looked up, raising his brow and wrinkling his nose. "Yeah. You brought it home three weeks ago and tossed it to me, then said that it was of no practical use to you. Remember?"

No. He didn't remember, nor was he too surprised. It wasn't that rare he'd hand out new models that his company would send him. If he wanted something, he would buy what fitted his needs. There was no need to switch appliances every other day. "Ok." And he continued up the stairs, closing his bedroom door behind him.

Half an hour later, he returned, only to find Tim in the very same spot. It was impossible to make out what was on the screen, so Bruce decided not to worry. "Where is everyone else?"

"It's a big house."

Holding in a mounting sigh, Bruce simply walked past. "Thanks for your help, Timothy."

* * *

Dick snuck through the back door, holding his breath the whole while, and thankful for the fact that Wayne manor was extensive enough for a person to stay hidden. There was no doubt in Dick's mind that he could get inside without being caught, the real trouble lay in making it to his room and sleeping the remainder of the night. Bruce wasn't stupid, he knew better than just give up Dick for gone and let things go.

The air smelled of dust and a faint cleaning supply that only a handful of people might point out. He walked, slightly un-nerved, through the swarming white sheets leeching to the furniture, saving them from time, and found his way to the part of the house that didn't echo things forgotten. Though, oddly enough, it was there he really had to start being concerned about something snatching him - though this time it wouldn't be a ghost, or a mass murderer - it'd be Bruce.

God - if it wasn't for the smell of stale air, or the looming feeling of despair, he would go into hiding, much like the furniture. Perhaps he could throw a white sheet on top his head and everyone would just accept him as something that dwelled, and not to be bothered.

As he inched his way through the house he heard voices, Alfred humming in the library, and then Bruce talking on the phone a bit past that, in his study. Fuck. This wasn't going to be good. Perhaps he should just turn back around, camp outside.

'Ten bucks,' he thought to himself, 'that Jason would come with me.'

Finally he found his way to the stairs, where he, oddly enough, found Tim, sitting on the very top step, messing around on that stupid hand-help computer Bruce had tossed to him a few weeks prior. It was something that Dick had been slightly jealous about missing out on.

"Dad's looking for you." Tim hardly spared him a glance, clearly too interested in whatever he was doing. "Bad grades this semester, hmm?"

Dick held a finger to his mouth, signaling for quiet, which was a 50/50 chance with his younger brother. Depending on Tim's mood, he might start talking all the more loudly, just to poke fun, or he'd let Dick pass with just a shrug. To Dick's annoyance, it was the first of these.

"WHAT? YOU WANT ME TO BE QUEIT?!" Tim's mouth drew out into a large smile, brilliant blue eyes going up to his brothers, lit up and teasing. He giggled as Dick smacked him on the back of his head, flying up the stairs to go into hiding. "OW!"

"Jack-ass!"

A door from downstairs was heard opening, and Tim watched as Bruce came to the base of the stairs, peering up. "Did Dick just go by?"

"Not that I saw."

"Then with whom were you speaking?"

"Conner, see -." Tim showed Bruce the screen of the device, knowing full well his guardian wouldn't be able to see much of anything. It did the trick, and Bruce departed, saying something about telling Dick to come see him.

It wasn't but ten minutes later that someone else decided to make their way up the stairs, though this time, Tim didn't feel much like teasing - hell, even talking with them. After all, he was still on unfamiliar ground since Jason came home. Every time they were around each other, things got tense and stuffy. It was as if they both were just waiting for the other to trigger to explosion, yet neither ever seemed up to the task.

Jason climbed past Tim, silent as could be, eyes guarded, staring firmly somewhere past Tim. Just when he passed the twelve-year-old, he muttered a small string of words. "There's a stray kitten out there. Tell Alfred."

* * *

"Have you seen Richard?" Bruce came into the kitchen, knowing full well Alfred would be there, sitting at the island counter, looking over his schedule for tomorrow.

"Not recently, Master Bruce."

"Did you feed him?"

This was an amusing question, and the butler hid his smile best he could. "He was not at dinner, though, all things considered, nobody came down to eat. Master Timothy did take the liberty of making a sandwich earlier - but other than that, I have not seen any of the young masters."

"He's avoiding me, and I know damn well why that is." Bruce huffed, feeling his frustration growing with just this simple conversation. "I asked for his grades this morning, it's been weeks since he's been out of school - said I wanted them when I got home from work. Naturally, there was nothing. So, finally, I logged into his school account and found out for myself." The billionaire slammed a sheet of paper on the counter.

Alfred looked over at it for a second, then picked it up, smart enough to know what to expect.

"He failed all his business classes as well as his Advanced Calculus and Chemistry."

"Indeed he did. Ah, but he did brilliantly in his Criminal Justice course. Flying colors, if you will."

"You're being calm because I'm mad, right?" Bruce hated when the butler would do this. It had been like it since before he could remember. He would go to Alfred to complain, hoping to get some support, and in return was given reason. "I suppose you think I should congratulate him, and tell him maybe business isn't for him, hmm?"

"I am simply speculating on the whole picture."

"Well, it seems like you're speculating on only the good."

"Master Bruce, pardon my saying so, but it appears you are focusing soley on the bad." Alfred handed the paper back, offering a polite smile. "Master Richard hardly spoke of those classes, and when he did, he said they were hard to concentrate in. Though, if I do recall, in all his phone calls home he spoke highly of the others, regaling us with tales of different criminal cases, as well as the field trips they would take."

Bruce didn't want to hear this. It wasn't helping. "He was the top of his class throughout grade school. I don't understand how a brilliant kid can go from attentive and respectable to having A.D.D. You know what I think it is?"

Alfred didn't offer an answer to that.

"I think it's because we let him move out, and live on campus. If he had stayed here, this wouldn't have happened. It would NEVER had happened."

"Perhaps, but then, he cannot live here his entire adult life." Alfred offered. "And we must keep in mind that these past years have been hard on us all - and there have been many changes. Look at Master Timothy."

"It doesn't change the fact that this sort of behavior isn't acceptable. If it had been Jason or Tim, I would have come with the same complaints."

"Would you have?"

"Of course!" Bruce narrowed his eyes, curious as to what sort of question that was.

"Master Bruce, you have always had different standards for each of the three. You hold Jason to a standard that is fair, you accepted that he struggles with school, as well as with social situations. You have shown him kindness and understanding throughout his entire life. Even now, in his return, you give him the space he needs. With Master Timothy, in his earlier years, you did everything you could to ensure that he was protected, perhaps a bit too much. Now that he's older, you have raised the bar, but still you treat him very differently. You allow him more space than he needs, and confuse seclusion with dedication."

Bruce naturally found himself on the defensive. "Tim is a brilliant kid, he advances himself because that's what's important to him. He has friends, look at all those study groups he was in. You can't tell me those aren't his friends."

"What twelve year old enjoys school as much as he does?" It was a fair and honest question.

"This isn't about Tim! I only do what I think is best for him."

"You do what you think is best for him because that is the way you were as a child."

This was horrible to hear, and the billionaire hated it.

"Master Richard has always been active, always done whatever sports he was allowed, and naturally did everything he could to please you. You both were close from the start, because he made you his friend, unlike the other two." Alfred wondered how much of this was actually getting through. "He would come to you with any problem, or any situation, and tell you about it. He waited for you to come home, so you both could go outside and play soccer. Do you not remember? Even when he was older he was more of your friend, and you always expected very different things from him than the others. You expected excellence, because you and he were always closer."

"So I'm not close with Tim and Jason, is that it?"

Alfred was careful with his reply. "When they came here, they viewed you more of an authority. When Dick came here, you and he viewed each other more as friends. Naturally, you are closer with him because of that."

This was more than enough. Bruce scoffed, deciding that Alfred wasn't making any sense. "I didn't come here for a lecture. I came here for advice. I want you to tell me what to do. I want you to tell me I have a right to be upset."

"You have a right to be concerned. These grades are upsetting, and Master Richard clearly did not put his full effort into them." It was an answer, but the expression on Alfred's face, mixed with the tone of his voice, seemed to harrow on something else. "As for what you should do, I think you already addressed that issue before he went off to the university."

That was correct. Bruce remembered telling Dick that any grade below a C+ would be a class that Dick had to pay for himself. "Fine." He left as abruptly as he had come in, leaving Alfred in a lesser mood, and himself in an even worse one. Everything Alfred had said seemed to be such an attack, something that Bruce couldn't help but take personally. He hated to think that he held any of the three at different standards, or showed that he might care more about one than the other. It was unfit, not to mention something he had never really considered his fault.

He took the stairs, yet again, and found Tim in the very same spot.

"What are you doing still sitting here? You have better things to be doing than sitting on that computer, staring at that screen for hours on end."

Tim snapped his head up at the tone, and slowly nodded, knowing better than to do anything to make matters worse. He was in the path of a storm, and it was best for him to get out of the way.

"Ok."

"Now, I want the truth - has Richard come by there tonight? The TRUTH, Timothy."

"Yeah, maybe an hour or so ago. I think he went to his bedroom, or Jason's."

"Alfred says you need to socialize more, and that I hold you back from doing that. So you need to look at joining some kind of club, where you can make friends. I want it done by tomorrow evening." Bruce ignored the look he received and brushed on past, going to Dick's room and giving a single knock on the door before entering. He found it empty at first, but then walked to the other side of the bed, finding Dick with headphones in, lying on the floor, GameBoy in hand. "Hey."

The gypsy froze, and slowly lifted his gaze to Bruce. As soon as their eyes met, Dick pulled his earphones out and sat up. "Hi."

"I asked for your grades."

"...I printed them out. I just guess I got sidetracked. They're -," he started to look around, as if they were nearby. "They're around here somewhere."

"Don't bother, I took the liberty of finding out myself." Bruce let the paper drop to the floor, landing in front of the teenager. "I have a feeling that you weren't ever going to show me."

Dick picked up the paper, quietly looking at the letters he had been dreading all day long. He honestly had nothing to say. There was no explanation that would make this 'ok'.

"Well?"

"I don't know." Dick's voice was low, only just audible.

"You don't know what? How it happened? I have a feeling you know exactly how it happened, and I would like to know, seeing as I paid for these courses."

All the explanations that Dick had thought up seemed stupid and feeble now. "I don't like business. It's hard, and boring, and the professor didn't much care for me. All the kids there were two-faced, and the only reason they wanted to talk to me was to find out things bad about me that would get them ahead. They only ever talked about you, and how great it would be if they could work for your company. They were my friends because they could use me. I didn't like them. I didn't like any of it."

"That is no excuse for you to fail a class. You don't decide to do well depending on how many friends you have or don't have. That is ridiculous. You think everyone I work with is my friends. If I made deals with other businesses only on the notion that I wasn't going to be used for my reputation, or on the factor that they were good people, I wouldn't get anywhere." Bruce shook his head. "Unbelievable."

"Well, it's not easy for me. Ok?"

"So in your criminal justice course, you had enough 'friends', I take it?"

"It's not just that!" Dick flushed. "I liked the class, it was interesting. They were all hard, but it was easier to focus on the ones I liked. It's not easy studying for something you don't even want to do."

Bruce was quiet for a moment. "You're saying that you want to get a degree in criminal justice? Richard, do you have any idea what jobs are in that market? You either become a cop, or you become a professor. That's about it."

"Well, what's so bad about that? I think I could be a cop. It doesn't sound so bad. Look at Commissioner Gordon."

"Gordon is an honorable man, I won't deny that, but if you think I'm paying all this money so you can go to college to graduate as a cop for Gotham or any other city, than you're wrong. I refuse to allow you to go into that line of work. It's idiotic."

"But I like it."

"You have been given many talents, you're smart, and you come from money. Those two combinations don't equal that career path. Gordon will tell you the same thing. Barbara is trying to get into that career, and I can tell you right now, she's going to have a hard time finding a job because he won't let anybody hire her."

Dick held back what he wanted to say, feeling his anger swelling up more an more. None of this was fair, and if Bruce thought that he was going to sit around in an office all day long, he was wrong. "I don't want to be in business."

"You don't have to be in business."

"Then what am I supposed to do? If I can't do what I want, then what am I supposed to do?"

"This isn't an argument. This is how it is. You aren't becoming a cop. Let's imagine, for a moment, I do allow you to follow this dream - I can tell you right now it won't end well. You will have all of your peers think that you got your position because of bribes and money. They'll hate you. Then, when you're out there, and facing a criminal, you think they're going to take you seriously? You will be viewed as a spoiled rich kid who doesn't belong." Bruce didn't hold back one bit. He wanted Dick to know the truth, every bit of it. "You'll be considered a target, and the only job they'll give you is giving out speeding tickets or helping with traffic for parades."

"Gordon won't let that happen."

"Gordon won't have a choice. He knows how crime is. He knows I have people who hate me. He won't want to bother with having to worry about one of his own men. Nor will any other half-brained officer out there. You would cause them too many problems. Case closed."

The Romanian stared down at the paper, focusing on the two A's he had received. "You're not being fair. You're saying that to make me change my mind."

"I'm telling you the truth. There's nothing to change, because you won't become a police officer in any city."

Dick refused to look up. He put the paper down, to the side and slouched back down, grabbing his GameBoy and turning it on. There was clearly no reason to do or say anything else on the subject. Bruce wasn't going to listen anyhow.

"We're talking. Turn that off."

"You're talking. You don't care what I say."

"Now you're being a child."

Dick went tense at that accusation. "No I'm not."

"Give me the GameBoy, Richard."

"Fine. Here." Dick held it up, still not making eye contact. "Good luck. I'm on level 23, it's pretty tough." He was sounding like a rebellious teenager, and it wasn't something he was any good at. Though, it was hard not to, seeing as he didn't know what else to do.

"You're eighteen years old, kid." Bruce said, turning off the GameBoy, and hearing the *ping* as the screen went blank. "I understand that it's not easy to hear, but it's the way things are. There's not changing it. Just like we can't change the fact that you're stuck in this house till Harvey Dent is caught. Life isn't fair. If it was, then Jason would never have gone through what he did. Barbara wouldn't be in the hospital because of who her father is."

Dick folded his arms across his chest and hunched down a bit more, hating that Bruce decided to play this card - like he understood. "Sure, blame it on her father, not on the fact that Jack Naiper was insane. It wouldn't matter who she was, he'd have done the same."

"Then why was the secretary left unharmed? Why did he get Barbara? Dick, if she hadn't been there, it would have been a kill just because someone was in the way. Barbara didn't do anything but be the daughter of someone important." Bruce sat on the edge of the bed, looking at the GameBoy and noticing the obvious wear to it. It was the original grey, standard model - Dick had all the new ones, and yet, this thing was still up and about. "You still have this? Did your others break?"

"No."

"Oh."

"I like that one."

"Ok."

"So can I have it back?"

"Not right now." Bruce groaned, pushing a hand through his hair, and glancing out the window. It was starting to rain. "I don't know what to tell you, chum."

Dick dropped his head a bit, and sighed. "I'm tired. I want to go to bed."

"Fine, we can talk about it tomorrow. It'll give you time to think."

"Think of what?"

"Of what you're going to do. You're plan. How you can make this mistake right. These grades aren't ok. You know that."

Ugh. Here it was again, the feeling of being talked down to, like he wasn't being taken seriously, like he wasn't an adult. Dick hated hearing that tone of voice. He had heard it since he was eight. "My plan is whatever you tell me to do."

"Come on, Dick."

Silence.

"We'll talk in the morning. We'll both be thinking clearer. Goodnight." Bruce got up, and turned to go, paused, then turned back around. "Here."

Dick found himself being forced to look up. He saw the GameBoy being offered and quickly averted his eyes, accepting it back. "Thanks."

* * *

The next morning only seemed to prove that a good night rest was somewhat overrated in the area of problem solving. Dick woke up in the same mindset as the night before, and Bruce woke up a grouch when Alfred reminded him of his lunch meeting with Gills and West Co. concerning their desire to set up shop in Gotham as they had in Metropolis. They were a kill and destroy company, and they knew things were rocky at Wayne Enterprises, what with the disagreement of board members and Bruce Wayne himself, thus, they had scheduled the meet and greet. There was no better way to ruin a good meal than to have to be polite to people you hated.

As Bruce straightened his tie, he thought on what Dick has said the night before. How he had hated his business classes for this very reason; People being polite to you because you had something they wanted. "Alfred?"

"Yes, Master Bruce?"

The two stood downstairs, in the entry-way, getting ready to leave for the day. Bruce turned to him, quiet for a moment, considering, and then giving a half smile. "I'll drive myself to work. I'd like you to wake Richard up and bring him to the office in, let's say, four hours. I think I have something that might be a good ... lesson for him. Besides," Bruce picked up his satchel, "He might prove to help out a little himself."

"Of course, Master Bruce."

This would be perfect, a way to show his fellow CEOs how selfish they were all being, and how stupid the whole matter was. It might not make things better again, but it would be a lesson they all could use.

Money was the root of all evil. Fucking right.

* * *

"If you think that you're going to change my mind by dragging me around the office, you're wrong. Freakin' wastin' my summer here." Dick entered Bruce's office in a clear state of disgust. He flopped into a chair in the back of the room, refusing to approach his guardian's desk. He was uncomfortable in his slacks and polo shirt that Alfred had forced him to wear. The clear sign of his protest was his black sweat jacket he wore, hood up, as well as his headphones in, blaring music that Bruce didn't much care to hear.

The billionaire checked his wrist watch, and nodded at the teenager. "Glad you made it."

"Why am I here anyhow?"

"I thought we might be able to help each other out."

"I'm being forced to 'help' you, meaning you're going to toss me on some poor person to show me around and waste their valuable time, all in hopes you'll change my mind about my career path." Dick slouched even further in the chair, muttering something under his breath that Bruce was pretty sure started with an 'f' and ended with a 'k'.

"Actually, no. This is only for the day actually, it's just for lunch. After that, I'll bring you back home. Sound 'ok'?" It was getting time to leave, so Bruce stood up and collected his things, putting a few papers away, and then clicking the line over on his phone. "Sarah, I'm headed out for the day. I don't see any reason for me to return. Could you send all my messages to my home office? Feel free to take an early day yourself."

"Of course, sir. Have a good time."

Bruce was actually starting to think he just might. Glancing up at his eighteen-year-old he nodded towards the door and grabbed his jacket. "All right, let's get going."

"At least tell me we're not eating someplace stuffy and lame. If I have to go listen to why I should pursue a degree in business and communications, then at least let's go to McDonalds."

"Can't win 'em all, chum."

* * *

The car ride gave Bruce a headache. He allowed Dick to drive, after much begging and pleading. Though, after the first ten minutes of listening to some loud music by some angry singers, Bruce had enough and changed the station.

"Hey! I'm doing this because you want to show me what a great idea it is to graduate and come work in your office. The least you can do is let me show you what a great idea it is for you to listen to decent music." Dick was starting to go over the speed limit, to which Bruce told him to slow down.

"If you get a ticket, you're paying for it. As for your music, I think decent is an opinion."

"Isn't everything?"

Bruce shook his head. "No, it's not."

"We could debate this, you know, and neither of us would be able to win the argument."

"I'd win the argument." Bruce didn't spare any formalities. "Turn up here."

Dick did as he was told, only to turn the radio back on.

They came to the restaurant and headed inside. Bruce didn't even have to say his name, the seating hostess just asked him to follow her and they were taken into the private dining area. A few other of the board members were already sitting there, papers spread out before them, arguing about what to do. When Bruce came in the looked up, and frowned at the sight of Dick.

"Bruce. I hardly think this is the time to bring the kid in to learn the ropes." Ted Hardess repositioned his glasses. "No offense, but this is a very serious meeting."

Dick hunched a bit, eyes wide, looking between the table and Bruce.

"I think I know the severity, thank you, Ted. Richard will be joining us, none-the-less." He took a seat with a smile and nod. "I can see your concern, but don't worry. I don't take this whole lunch too seriously. We're in no position for them to profit. Not yet."

"If you say so." It was clear Ted didn't like that frame of thought. He pushed some papers towards Bruce. "I outlined what they're wanting to discuss, their terms and conditions, and what we all think would be the best-."

"This isn't going to be a meeting. They wanted to see us all for a nice lunch. That's why we accepted to. If they bring up anything, I'll address it then."

Dick took a seat to the left of Bruce, looking about as confused as possible, and somewhat frustrated. He pulled his hood back and glanced between the faces around him. It was obvious that Bruce's fellow board members were put off.

"Then what are we doing here?" Bill Bryson folded his hands and leaned back, opening his mouth as he waited for an answer.

"A lunch, just as they requested."

Five minutes of silent hostility, and the seating hostess came back with three gentlemen in their mid forties, all of which were all smiles and falsity.

"Mr. Wayne! It's a pleasure. I'm Jack West, and these are my partners Donald West and Ronny Gill." He held out his hand, to which Bruce accepted.

"How are you doing, please, have a seat."

"Sorry if we kept you waiting at all." Ronny Gill offered, pulling out a chair beside Dick. He paused, cocked his head and smiled at the teenager. "You can't be part of the board. That, or I'm looking at the youngest CEO I've had the pleasure of meeting."

Dick shook the hand that was given to him and shook his head, embarrassed to be caught with his mouth full of bread. He tried his best to swallow. "Urh, no, not yet. Dick Grayson, nice to meet your acquaintance, sir."

"Richard is sitting in on this lunch." Bruce said with a smile. "He's attending the University. I've been trying to get him to pursue a degree in Business, but he's got his mind set on becoming a police officer. I thought this might be good for him, maybe change his mind." Bruce explained.

The table was silent, exchanging looks of utter surprise, especially from the West Brothers and Mr. Gill.

"...Well, I know how that goes. My kid thinks he's going to travel overseas and watch birds." Donald Gill forced himself to converse. "Though, he's only 3, I still have time on my side."

"Ah, that you do." Bruce motioned towards the waitress, who stood against the wall, waiting as she did far too often. "Why don't we go ahead an order? I'd hate to keep this lovely lady waiting any longer than need be."

They all put in their orders. It was finally Ronny who broke the ice, yet again, turning towards Dick. "I remember college days. It's a great time. What year are you?"

"A freshman, sir, or well, I guess sophomore now." A shrug. "Not sure how that all works, seeing as I haven't declared a major."

"Well, let me tell you, take your time on deciding what to do. You don't want to spend five years trying to graduate, only to discover you hate the job line you picked." He took a long drink from his iced tea, and smiled. "I had it in my head I was going to be a nurse, but changed my mind after the first semester."

"Why?"

"... I had a lot of talent, and opportunity that most kids didn't. My father already had a job waiting for me, and I was planning on getting married to my high school sweet heart. I suppose, after a bit of time, I realized that I was meant to do this."

Dick smiled. "Why did you want to be a nurse?"

"... well, medicine has always interested me, but back then I really enjoyed the idea of saving lives. My grandfather, on my mother's side, was a nurse. I always felt that he was the most honorable person I knew. He worked hard to support his family, at a job that where people didn't treat him with much kindness." Ronny smiled and shook his head. "He died an old, happy, well lived man."

"He sounds like a great guy."

"He truly was."

"...You like what you do?" Dick wasn't sure why he was asking, other than the fact that the question was there to be asked. It was an honest query.

Ronny looked around the table, straightening a bit and chuckling. "Well, if I didn't do what I did I wouldn't get to see and meet all the people I have."

To this, all Dick could do was nod, knowing full well when a question was avoiding being answered. He grew up listening Bruce talk to people just like that. Polite ways to move on with the conversation. It wasn't the truth, but it wasn't a lie either. "Cool."

"You should give it a fair chance, Richard. Who knows, you might like it." Now it was Donald speaking. "Then maybe one day you can take your kid to meetings."

There was a forced laugh, even from Bruce, Dick was the only one who didn't seem amused.

"I've taken five classes in it already, actually." The gypsy replied. "I didn't like the ... classes."

Bruce leaned back in his chair and cleared his throat. "He felt that his classmates were all out to get him."

Another bit of polite laughter, to which, yet again, Dick didn't join. Rather, he felt red creeping into his cheeks as he looked down at the table, confused why Bruce was doing this to him. It wasn't like his guardian to humiliate him in public. If he was trying to prove that all people in business were assholes, he was doing a good job.

"Not a bad mind-set." Ted muttered.

"Indeed."

"I didn't think they were out to get me." Dick looked at Bruce, brow furrowed, confusion in his eyes. "I just ... didn't like it."

"It's ok, Dick, I'm not trying to make you feel badly." When Bruce spoke, he looked the teenager directly in the eyes. "I just wanted you here to give us all a glance at what we once were." He turned his attention back to the table. "I think we all know why we're here, having lunch, making nice conversation, and laughing at things we'd rather not even bother with."

Ted was shaking his head at Bruce, desperate to get the man to stop.

"West and Gill Co. asked us here because they're aware, as are most, that Wayne Enterprises has been struggling to make some important decisions. In fact, we've been arguing these matters for years, to a point of exhaustion, to a point where we're doing ourselves harm - as well as the company. We've lost billions of dollars that we shouldn't have, and now still are trying to figure out what to do and how to revamp."

"Mr. Wayne, please."

"No, it's ok, I'd like to say this. We all need to face the truth. West and Gill Co. sees an opportunity, and I don't blame them. I'm more than happy to have a real meeting with you, but first we all need to confirm what is going on, because I don't think we all see the whole picture." Bruce sat up a bit more. "Dick, as I said, doesn't care for business. He said to me that his classmates be-friend him simply to use him. He said to me that they know who he is, and his relation to this company, and thus do what they can to use that to their advantage. Which, of course, means they're doing a damn good job at preparing for the degree the picked."

Ronny chuckled.

Dick, on the other hand, simply buried his head in arms, on top the table, refusing to look around at all the eyes watching. He wished he was Jason, so he could just explode and start yelling at everyone and cussing the whole room out, especially Bruce. This was just ... cruel. And it wasn't even McDonalds.

"I'm not in the right mindset to have this meeting, as you can see. So, I thought before we all start to make agreements and decisions that will impact all our workers, we could have a lunch and get to know each other. I am more than happy to pay for your troubles, and even pay to have you back in Gotham for another meeting. Though, as for right now, I cannot make the choices you want me to. It's just not possible."

Jack West had been silent since practically the start of the whole venture. Now he finally spoke. "I can see that this isn't going to be the meeting I had hoped for. My wife won't much like the idea of me having to travel all the way back for a reschedule."

"I'll tell you what, the three of you can pick a weekend and I'll pay for you and your families to come and experience Gotham. Then, you're all welcome to dinner and drinks at my place. There, after a home-cooked meal, and some good scotch, we can talk about whatever it is that you want to." Bruce smiled, honestly this time. "I'm asking for the opportunity to see if your company is worthy of going into business with. I know your plan was to come in and force us to make a decision of where Wayne Enterprises is going, but I'll tell you my company isn't splitting. I know the rumors are that we're headed towards a split, but that's simply not true."

This was clearly news to the rest of Wayne's board members.

"I owe the company, and I see an opportunity to collaborate with your business, create more jobs, and give Wayne Enterprises the kick start we need to get back in the swing of things." Bruce motioned towards Ronny and Donald. "You're a large company, larger than Wayne Enterprises, but I'm offering you a partnership where you can profit from more than just this branch."

"You're talking about Wayne Tech, Wayne CO, and the others as well?" Ronny looked confused. "Why is that?"

"Because, I know what you do, and I know you have a few companies of your own in various cities. I know a good business opportunity when I see one."

Their food had arrived, and now the waitress and seating hostess were both calling out the plates, and putting them in the appropriate spots. The gentlemen calmly waited, smiling and giving "thank you's" as their food was received. Once everyone had their meal, the two girls asked if everything looked ok, then headed off to their next task, leaving a silence waiting to be filled.

Bruce started to speak, when Ted spoke up, clearly put off by what was being said. "Listen, this is all very well and good, Bruce. I'd like to tell these men the same thing, but you can't just force a decision like that without consulting the other members. Where only half here."

"I am forcing this decision on Wayne Enterprises. Though, I can't speak for what West and Gill Co. will do, if they'll even be interested. As for my team, I know that Mr. Fox and I agree to this, and that is all that really matters. Either we agree to this, or abandon ship."

"If I'm wrong, correct me, by all means, but I think that's what some of the board members want."

"Yes, they want to sell the company and make a quick pay off for little work, because you all have stock in this. Though, if you care that much about money, then at least consider the fact that you all stand to make double what you would if we did this partial merge." Bruce returned his attention to Jack and his two partners. "You, at this point, have to being doing better than you appear to be if you plan to buy out Wayne Enterprises. Even if you're hoping we'll divide it up."

Jack said nothing, rather held his ground, waiting to hear something that would make him better believe this offer. He hardly knew Bruce Wayne, other than gossip, which ranged to the obsolete and absurd. Though, the few business types that Jack and his brother had come across, all seemed to share the same respect for the man. They had said he was far too generous, worked harder than anyone in his company, and was about as honest as the Bible.

"I understand if you want to keep that information to yourself." Though Bruce couldn't understand why that would be. "But let me just confirm, for my friends here. You have roots in Star City, Metropolis, New York, Tokyo, Amsterdam, and hundreds of other locations."

"So do you."

Bruce nodded. "Yes, but they're just branches, all under the same name and guise."

"People trust your company name." Ronny interrupted.

"Which is why you would benefit as well. Listen, I like the idea of keeping things local, I always have. I respect that you do your best to keep work where you pick it up, and hire the people who were there originally. You first do your best to rebuild it, even keep the same name, just weed out the problems."

"We're business managers, Mr. Wayne. We aren't out to ruin people. We're simply very successful at fixing problems and putting people at the top who we know will make things work. Sometimes it doesn't, but usually it does. We're not in it for short term, if that's what you're saying." Jack stated, forking some of his salmon and dipping it in his cup of sauce. "Like you're telling your friends here, it does pay off better in the long run, if you can fix something and get it running again, rather than just sell it off to the scrap yard for whatever someone will pay."

Donald was looking at his brother, quietly thinking, not even aware of the plate of food growing cool before him.

"The problem with this whole thing, sad to say, is that we have never had any relations in the past. How can I be sure that you're going to reassess your troops, and actually make things start working? It seems like you have a lot of disagreement within." Jack glanced over at Ted, offering a smile.

"You have my word." Bruce was about as solemn as he could be. "I'll be able to convince them to reroute. I trust my board members to do what is best for Gotham City and her people. I know they'll do what's right."

The rest of the lunch only lasted, at most, twenty minutes. It was then that Ted and the other members of Wayne Enterprises, save Bruce Wayne, took their leave, saying the really had to get back to work. Once they were gone, the tense situation seemed to lighten significantly.

"Investors, huh?" Ronny lifted his glass in the air. "You can't do it without out them, but by God, I wish we didn't need them!"

Bruce laughed, nodding in agreement. "I'm glad you understand."

"Eh, there are the good and the bad, just the way of things."

"They'll come around, I know that. I still haven't pulled out the big guns on them." Bruce pushed back in his chair a little, not quite relaxing, but no longer as firm as before. "I've been preoccupied as of late, and will be for a while still, matter which they're not so cold to ignore. If anything, I can always use that in my defense, make them swing to the other side."

"So, kid, I gotta ask -." Ronny leaned forward a bit, motioning towards Dick, who was still struggling with whatever the hell he had just eaten. It had left a crude after-taste, and he was still hungry. "Was that whole spiel about college real, or were you just trying to soften everyone up, especially ol' Teddy?"

Dick's eyes widened slightly, surprised to be questioned about honesty. "Yes sir, it was the truth." He paused for a moment. "I actually thought I was being dragged to some kind of intervention."

This created an eruption of laughter from the three, and a smile from Bruce that was more polite than real.

"Yes, well, it was a nice opener." Jack said, once the noise died down. "Business isn't all that bad, so long as you do it right. We need some more good guys, like your father, out there with us."

To this Bruce only inclined his head. "Well, Jack, Ronny, and Donald - it was a pleasure meeting you. I do hope you'll take me up on my offer, and come back some weekend, in the very near future, so we can actually sign the papers and figure things out. I should have my group ready by the end of the month. That I assure you." He stood up, followed naturally by Dick, who figured they were leaving (thank goodness).

"It sounds like a plan. Either way, we got some nice conversation and a wonderful meal out of the whole thing. Not to mention, a chance to finally meet you. It's an honor." Jack stood up, followed by his partners, and they all shook hands with Bruce and Dick.

As Ronny grasped Dick's hand he gave it a firm squeeze, followed by a wink. "Just remember, stay in school, and you'll be alright. You seem like a smart kid. I'm pretty good at reading people, and from what I can tell, you're gold. I don't think you could tell a lie that anyone would believe. That's a good curse to have."

Dick wasn't sure to make of that, but smiled back nonetheless. "I don't know much about reading people, but I think you're 'ok' too." He glanced over at Jack. "Mr. Jack West is the leader. Mr. Donald West has the brains, but you ... I think you have the heart. You make a good team."

Ronny burst out laughing and turned to Bruce. "You've got quite the kid here, quite the kid! If he ever does get into business, he'll either rule the World, or end up broke because he's too busy doing good."

* * *

"Thanks for that." Dick waited till they were at least halfway to the car, away from the restaurant, to speak. He pulled his hood up, and then gripped his backpack straps firmly, quickening his pace to gain some distance from his guardian.

Bruce watched him walking away and paid it little mind. He smiled to himself, a bit too pleased with the way things went. He really liked West and Gill Co. and hoped they'd end up working together. It was rare to meet good people, people that you just knew you could work with and grow in business with. If he was fair to them, they'd be the same to him. There was no doubt in his mind.

Plus, he also felt that Dick got a much needed taste what things were really like at Wayne Enterprises. Ronny was right, in what he said, about the Romanian teenager. Dick was a rare soul - something he had taken from his parents. He was honest, fair, loyal, and had kindness that went to the sky and then some. The kid didn't know how to not make friends. Every person, no matter how they looked, talked, or acted, was kept on equal grounds to the boy. He was a born leader, if he would simply apply himself.

'Whoa, there Wayne, don't get too proud. After all, he's not your kid. You didn't make him into the young man he's become. It was all Mary and John. You know it, he knows it, and everyone should know it.'

After all, he only had to look at Jason and Timothy. All three of the boys took after their birth parents in so many ways. Jason clearly had come from a rough childhood, Dick clearly had been loved to the extreme by parents who worked hard to make an honest living, and Tim was obviously the heir to money. Who they were, the good they did, it was just in their blood.

"The food wasn't even good. I don't know what the hell I ate!" Dick had his hands shoved deep in his pockets, slouched a bit, dragging his feet in a way that would probably make Alfred keel over. Despite the obvious disagreement on methods, Dick kept his tone light and teasing. He wasn't happy, that much was obvious, but he wasn't going to be completely negative about it. "You're lucky I'm not Jays. I would have flipped you all off, said 'adios, mother-fuckers,' and then started hitch-hiking home."

They came to the car, and Bruce dug out his keys, going to unlock it. "I am aware." They climbed in, buckled up, and started the trek back home, to which Dick quickly said that he deserved a reward for his efforts. So, after a quick pit stop at Berkies for a milk shake, they were back on their way.

Bruce checked his rearview, preparing to turn off of Aparo Expressway and cross Robert Kane Memorial Bridge, over Gotham River, and into the more spacious area where Wayne Manor rested, just west of Bristol.

"I don't think I've been to Sheldon Park in a century." Dick said, almost out of no-where. He had caught glimpse of the sign in passing. "That's a long time, you know."

"I think you're confusing terminology."

"I was being clever."

"Being obviously mistaken is being clever?"

"Being humorous is being clever."

"So, being obviously wrong is humorous?"

Dick rolled his eyes and returned to looking out the window. "You know what sucks? That Barbara is on one side of Gotham, and we're waa-aay on the opposite side. I still have no idea why your family wanted a house isolated from all things social. I mean, hell, it takes half an hour just to get home from the Upper East Side, not to mention the forty minutes we've already been sitting here, wasting away."

There was no reply from the driver, rather, continued concentration on the simple task at hand. A clean exit onto the ramp, and then the journey across the bridge began. It was nearing two now, and the sun was still high, beating down on the water below, making it look somewhat less polluted with the mirage of sparkles glittered across its front.

They'd be home shortly.

To Be Continued...

**Thanks for all the reviews and kind words. I know it's been forever, but I still am trying to keep it up. Call me lazy.


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